


Citizen Junghee

by quagmireisadora



Series: To Live [2]
Category: K-pop, SHINee
Genre: Alexithymia, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Dystopia, F/F, F/M, Groupthink, M/M, Mentioned JongHo - Freeform, Mentioned ex-president of ROK, POV Multiple, Politics, Post-War, System Justification Theory, final edit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:41:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25239388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quagmireisadora/pseuds/quagmireisadora
Summary: Come out in shackles where everyone can see.Your arms waving, your body dancing, come out.With sand in your hair and blood on your clothes,Come out in shackles where everyone can see—this is the city of your beloved.(Faiz Ahmed Faiz)
Relationships: Kim Kibum | Key/Lee Jinki | Onew, Lee Jinki | Onew / Lee Taeyeon
Series: To Live [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969093
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21
Collections: Summer of SHINee Round 2





	1. - 일탈자

**Author's Note:**

> _The following contains descriptions of an authoritarian society and consequential failings of the same. This includes injustice, violence, and oppression. Please proceed at your own risk._

_There is no feeling called “love.”_

* * *

A few minutes later, the female exits the bedroom. She takes off her gloves and disposes of them, looking over and giving a small shake of the head. 

“My colleague tells me that conception has not occurred yet,” the male auditor points out coldly, noting his observations on a communicator. His visor gleams from a ceiling light, some of it catching on his white plastic and silver hi-vis uniform. The ensemble produces a squeak with every move of his arms and neck. His colleague is dressed similarly, with the addition of a test kit clipped to her belt. 

“Shall I assume this to be a result of dereliction?”

“Certainly not,” Lee 891214 calmly reassures. An armband beeps steadily on his bicep, reading his pulse and feeding on neurological data from his body. “We are actively trying to conceive, as you know.” 

“Indeed,” the auditors share a furtive glance. “Have you noticed any deviant behaviour from your assigned partner?” The question is spoken softly, with lips that barely move. It is not an unexpected question. Large posters around the public arenas ask the same thing. 

“No,” he replies immediately.

“You are certain of this?” 

Once again, Lee 891214 does not hesitate before repeating his negation. “We are loyal to the cause.” He pauses a moment before continuing. “Perhaps we can be provided with guidance in the matter?”

“There is no guidance we can offer. Such tasks are instinctive, surely your Citizen Training explained this to you?” the female speaks up in light rebuke. “Continue as usual. Maintain your diets and routines. Ensure you are focused on the task, rather than allowing insignificant distractions to—”

“I assure you there are no distractions,” Lee 891214 clarifies. His speech is rushed, but his face retains composure. “We are both dedicated citizens.”

The male auditor takes down some more notes at that. “That may be so,” he allows. “But you are still far behind schedule.”

They wordlessly stare at each other for several moments. The female auditor stands watching from her place. Behind her, Lee 930718 exits the bedroom as well, scanning everyone else's face.

"May I offer refreshments?" she asks calmly while her fingers remove her own beeping armband. If there were any tension in the room, her presence has broken it.

“That won't be necessary,” the male replies and stands. “We will be taking your leave. This was a pleasure. We recommend sustaining your efforts, and keeping record of any changes in physiology,” he nods in the direction of Lee 930718, who gives a small nod of her own in response.

“Thank you for your visit,” Lee 891214 stands as well. “We appreciate your inputs and will keep them in mind.” 

“Very good, citizen.”

When they are alone, they share a long-sustained look. These visits have grown more and more strained with each assessment of their behavioural responses. The standard emotional stimulation test—what was once a simple interrogation and measurement exercise—has become what can only be described as a challenge. It is invasive, it is punctilious, and this makes it increasingly difficult for one to remain detached. The strain of such activity manifests itself on their faces as dark circles and bloodshot eyes.

“What is your opinion on this development?” Lee 891214 asks his assigned partner. 

She does not answer for a long minute. She only studies his face, eyes roving over his features as if looking for a flaw.

He goes on in his usual dispassionate manner. “For the sake of our continued safety, I would prefer to remain on schedule and keep trying. But I wouldn't wish to go against your choices.” 

“Our choice is immaterial,” Lee 930718 finally replies with ease. “We are all instruments for the betterment of the republic, are we not?”

“That is correct.” 

“If it is our duty to produce offspring, then we must endeavour to achieve positive results,” she gives voice to their joint apprehension. “Regardless of how long it takes.”

“I understand,” Lee 891214 agrees, gesturing behind them to the bedroom door. “What would be a convenient time for you to resume?” 

Lee 930718 takes in a thoughtful breath. “Perhaps when we return from our work shifts, we may try again?” 

“Very well.” 

They stand facing each other for a moment before exchanging quick goodbyes and leaving for the day. 

Outside, a long row of doors stretches out to the end of the corridor. Residential units, likely identical to their own. State-assigned couples with no children live in the same district. It is only those successful in their attempts at procreation who are provided bigger, better illuminated housing. The production of children—that is the ultimate goal of any citizen, and a deciding factor in their social stature.

As Lee 891214 walks alongside the doors, the soles of his work boots clang against steel flooring. On his other side, toughened safety glazing panels punctuate the space between large reinforced concrete columns and beams. When he looks out of them, he can see other corridors and levels in the wing, people going about their days across the atrium. _Euljiro 4-ga_ , a freshly painted sign announces the name of this ten storey division. His home for three years now, it is relatively new, designed by his colleagues in the tunneling and earthworks sector. Several documents on building technology had survived the Last Disaster, and were very useful in creating the underground districts that make up Seoul Special City—capital of their new republic.

On the train to his workplace, Lee 891214 scans through the carriage for familiar faces. Some seats away he notices Sung 630428 from the agrarian sector and waves to the old and greying male. He is one of the last remaining survivors of the Disaster, claiming to possess vibrant memories from his childhood: a time before the republic moved underground. While they are not sanctioned to speak of such things, Lee 891214 enjoys spending his time with the old man. There is a placidity in their interactions, something he feels a strange craving for. 

Arriving at work, he greets his colleagues with his usual wordless nod and approaches his desk, hearing a ding on his communicator. Checking the alert, he swipes a finger along the length of the device and its screen is projected onto the surface of his desk. Design documentation for review, he notes when he reads the files. Despite the auditors reprimanding his household for impeded progress, he knows the day will be like any other day. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

He quietly takes a seat, and begins.

* * *

When the first batch of citizens for the day exits the room, Kim 910923 lets out a long exhale. 

The theater is now quiet, and the fifty seats are all unoccupied. The screen at the front of the hall is blank, but thirty minutes from now a projector will cast educational imagery onto its white stretch. This facility is the oldest of its kind: Yeongdeungpo district, Yeouido division, nearly at the heart of their great city's administrative sector. Every day, groups of aberrant citizens arrive for reeducation, and every day Kim 910923 stands behind the projector, watching the backs of their heads, willing their thoughts to be revealed. 

But there is never anything to see, no revelation to move him. Day after day, year after year, nothing changes. Hair remains dark, walls remain grey, clothes remain white. Even the chairs stay plain and uncomfortable. Nothing ever changes. So at the end of every shift, Kim 910923 returns to his residence feeling more and more… something. He does not know what to label his dissatisfaction but it exists. He knows it lives in the space between his lungs, he senses it when he breathes. And when he searches other faces for a reflection of the emotion, he finds himself alone.

In what must surely be someone's idea of a joke, Kim 910923 has nearly ended up in the audience of this theater himself. Multiple times. On some occasions, his colleagues have reported him for producing odd whimpering sounds from his throat when he reads a bulletin detailing population control. On other junctures, the fellow residents of his housing wing have questioned the appearance of excess moisture in his eyes. He feels ashamed of his history of deviation, but it is out of his control. There is nothing he can do about it—he has said so to multiple auditors who issue him with severe warnings. He has pleaded his case to several physicians too, sometimes becoming violent in his averment of innocence. But no matter how many times they sedate him or inject stabilizers into his arms, there is no end to the discrepancies in his behaviour. 

Kim 910923 is a repeat offender.

And yet they never truly punish him for any of it, when he knows others have been disciplined for much less. They tell him it is because he must be an example, that as an administrator he must lead the way towards a peaceful society of obedient citizens. They tell him it would be disagreeable if someone with his duties were to be chastised; that it would weaken any belief citizens have in the maintenance of law and order. _It would be chaos_ , he is explained when he yells for them to lock him up.

And so he continues to do as he is told.

“Forty-three in the next batch,” his supervisor Choi 911209 announces when she enters the projection room. She is like him, a pariah who remains within society because there is no one else to replace her. They may not live in detention centres like other deviants, but their lives are no different. When one is deemed too divergent in the eyes of the law, they are neither assigned a partner nor permitted to mate with anyone. Their genetics are considered far too abnormal to be conveyed onto another generation of citizens. So, they are both alone.

This does not bear too heavily on Kim 910923. He has always lived on his own, and does not find his solitude to be any worse than spending his time in someone's company. But Choi 911209 is a different story. For although she remains peaceable and compliant in her behavioural traits, all she wants is a child of her own.

When she admitted it for the first time, he did not know how to respond. He couldn't console her or encourage her or say anything to ease her melancholy. He couldn't help her, even as she helped him: she helped him realise that though he does not wish for a partner or children, though his ambitions are not as clearly defined as hers, he does want **more.** More than what he has.

They are both discontent. And by that merit, he feels safe around her. He feels like he can speak his mind and let himself be himself. In return, she is relaxed in her speech and mannerisms when they are alone. It is an unspoken pact. 

“Please prepare the headsets,” she nods and begins walking away when he calls her to return. 

“The batches are… rather full this week, don't you think?” he asks conversationally. It isn't a topic for discussion and he wouldn't normally bring it up with anyone, but she stays and listens so he continues. “Could this be related to a common event?” he murmurs. “A… a shared experience?” 

“Perhaps,” she humors. “What are your theories?” 

Kim 910923 has countless theories about everything. He keeps most of them to himself, for fear of more retribution and more drugs. He never questions things openly. But right now… he looks around them to ensure they are alone even when he knows they are—the surveillance mechanisms are deactivated between theatre sessions, so they are safe.

“I think,” he leans forward in his seat and whispers. “I think there has been an incident in Itaewon division again. I happened to overhear several residents mention it. They did not sound very comfortable about it.”

“You have heard citizens discuss it?” Choi 911209 raises her eyebrows until they disappear behind her fringe. Her expression darkens when he nods in reply. “That… that sounds troubling.”

“I agree,” Kim 910923 nods, rolling his chair closer. He looks up at her. “I suspect... I suspect the pills are beginning to lose their potency. It is the only explanation for such frequent outbursts.” He blinks up at her, considering holding her hand for comfort. 

“What should we do?” 

She appears confused for a moment, frowning down at him. “I do not understand,” she tilts her head. “What could we possibly do—?” 

“We could continue to look for. _Options…_?” he cuts her off, vaguely mentioning a past conversation between them. “I mean to say,” although he is certain they are alone, his voice falls even deeper before he goes on. “There is a possibility that the maintenance survey team has recently used the escalators. That they are no longer blocked for egress—” 

Choi 911209 is shaking her head and backing away from him even as he goes on. “No,” she firmly refuses. “No. Let us never speak of that. Not again. Please.”

Kim 910923 feels a warmth rise from his chest to his head. He has the impulse to be louder, to make demands like _why not?!_ He wants to be more aggressive in his stance, but he doesn't want to scare her or hurt her, and he certainly doesn't want to be reported to the auditors. There are only so many warnings they can let him off with. Another altercation could well end with him being imprisoned. And he does not wish to be imprisoned.

So he sits in his place, breathing faster than normal and fists tightened at his sides. “I understand,” he says between grit teeth, even when he doesn't. He doesn't understand why she won't even entertain the possibility, why she won't even consider the idea before dismissing it. Dismissing _him_.

Without another word, he rolls his chair back to the workstation, promptly returning to his duties.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Choi 911209 studying him for a few minutes. Despite her informality with him, she is his supervisor. She can easily report him, she can easily punish him, she can make his life miserable. But she doesn’t. She only watches from her place, silent and still, until finally walking out of the projection room. 

He will apologise to her when his head is in the right place.

* * *

_There is no feeling called “love.”_

_War razed everything to the ground. For many years, nothing would grow. For many decades, no help would arrive. There is no such thing as “love” despite its mention in torn pages and static songs. There is no such thing as love because it never existed - not even before the bombs took it away. It is a delusion, a phantom pain one feels before the arrival of rationality. There is no such thing as love and there never will be. Don’t hope for it, don’t go looking for it, don’t try to fool yourself with it. It is dangerous, and it will take your life._

_There is no feeling called “love.” Protect yourself from it._

* * *

“What do you mean the air circulation systems are a problem?”

Lee 891214 points to the screen behind him, where plans for a new Citizen Training Centre are projected. A new district needs new facilities. It is his duty to ensure these spaces remain safely habitable for long periods of time, and it is for the republic’s officers to decide if they are also easy to surveil. The difference in motivations means these meetings generally end with one side adjudicating over the other. Lee 891214 does not wish to be engaged in a conflict with those of higher rank, but he also does not want to fail at his job. 

“The existing systems do not currently have the capacity to provide ventilation for the occupancy numbers we are proposing. Considering that a percentage of them will also function as smoke pressurisation systems in the event of a fire, it is my professional opinion that they be upgraded, or the occupancy be reconsidered.”

The officers share looks before one of them steps forward and speaks. “And you base this opinion on what, exactly?”

“The calculations are in the files provided to the panel,” Lee 891214 politely motions to them all. “Please feel free to review them.”

“And if they are incorrect?” another officer challenges as they scroll through his presentation on their communicator. This point is moot, and made clearly as a form of provocation. Lee 891214 has never been wrong about these things because of his absolute reliance on numbers. Math never lies. This is considered his specialty, his unique skill. This is the reason he has managed to rise so far in society at all.

Despite his confidence, he does not attempt to be defiant. “Then I humbly apologise to you all for any errors. It is my constant endeavour to present as accurate a scenario as possible.”

If they wish to reprimand him for negligence, they cannot. They know as well as he does that the calculations are exact. None of the officers can find fault in that, even if they do not like to hear him list the limitations of their plans to them. They blankly stare at his presentation, from one screen to another, standing in their row of crisp white blouses and hanboks. 

“Very well,” one of them finally allows. “But the options you present are too extreme. It is impracticable to install additional systems so far underground, and unreasonable to let only a select few use the Centre,” he points out. “What do you suggest we do about that?”

Lee 891214 is thrown off balance at the query but his appearance stays completely indifferent. He does not solve problems, he avoids them. He does not present answers to obstacles, simply highlights the obstacles themselves so they aren’t overlooked in the grand scheme. The republic was not built on dreams. It was not created from a whim. For it to remain functioning as intended, for it to continue being effective, its citizens must rely on their rationality.

At least, that is what he thinks.

“Perhaps a management strategy will ensure the Centre is never unoccupied,” he offers.

“Cyclic utilisation,” someone murmurs and others nod as if the idea is slowly making a home in their minds. “Yes that could certainly work.”

Once they are all convinced, each pair of eyes returns to Lee 891214. They give him a light round of applause and then quietly file out of the meeting room. “Remarkably done, citizen,” a female officer congratulates before the door hisses shut. 

He stands in his place, feeling neither pride nor accomplishment. This is just another day among several other days. This is just his duty to the republic. 

During the midday meal hour, he sits among other citizens like him who keep their gazes to their plates and eat silently. They wear the same white overalls and boots, the pastyness of their skins matching their outfits. Their fingernails and hair are the same length, their eyes the same color. They chew with the same speed and blink at the same intervals, and he is sure that if he measured their heights and weights they would all be identical. It is in these situations that Lee 891214 recognises he is not special after all. He is ordinary. He is like everyone else around him.

It comes as a relief. 

An administrator strolls around, handing digestion and nutrient pills to every table. He waits to check that everyone has ingested their dosage, then moves on. Lee 891214 watches the male make his way through the meal hall, wondering if his partner’s workplace also provides them with such a service.

He has never asked her, and has no access to such information either. It is highly unconventional for an assigned couple to visit one another’s workplace, much less share it. While he himself is good with numbers, Lee 930718 relies on her physical abilities to excel at her job—that is the extent of his knowledge. He does not know much else, nor does he ever attempt to make conversation around the subject. All they discuss in the quiet of their residence is food rations, credit balances, and her reproductive calendar. This is how it has always been between them, ever since they were assigned to each other. This is how it will remain between them as long as they live, neither attempting to broaden the extent of conversation or allowing their interactions to be anything more consequential than eating or sleeping or breeding. 

In this too, he suspects, he is ordinary. 

* * *

Nowon district is full of single males and females.

It remains noisy throughout the awake cycle. There are roots of old trees intersecting concrete ceilings. There are breaks in the slab joints that let in sunlight—real, unfiltered sunlight; completely unlike the solar tubes in the Seodaemun gestation quarters, despite what Choi 911209 may say. Some older residents go as far as suggesting it is the closest thing to the past they could ask for. But who would ask for the past? Who would wish for any of that post-war misery? Surely nobody thinks of that time with any nostalgia.

Everything the republic teaches them says the nuclear fallout took too great a toll on the surviving human population. Everything Kim 910923 knows goes against the instinct of wanting to seek a life above ground.

But he still thinks about it. 

Of all the other districts in the city, this one is the most heavily guarded and the one most frequented by auditors. They often stop citizens for unplanned checks of attire, sometimes conducting unannounced raids on certain residential units. In these parts, it's never strange to witness a row of chained and muzzled deviants walking in a restrained row towards the train station. Unpaired citizens are prone to break the rules, prone to vandalising the walls and glass barriers in their wings. They often brawl amongst themselves, and the only thing stopping them from rioting is the emotional monitoring system.

When a situation gets too far out of control, the auditor on duty plays a long continuous tone that interferes with thought processes and causes all in the vicinity to keel in their places.

Deviancy is common among those like Kim 910923—destined to be alone for the rest of their life cycles. 

He is not special. As far as he can tell, he was conceived and born in the same way as other citizens, raised and educated like them. But he does not have a high-scoring functional requirement, nor does he have a noteworthy skill that can place him in a high-credit job. He cannot be a physician, or an engineer. He can certainly never work as an auditor. He has no exceptional mental faculties, and while his above-average physical strength may count for something it is too common a trait to stand out in a crowd.

Which, he supposes, is a hidden advantage. The aim is to **not** stand out. If something does not serve a purpose, the republic does not reward it. The aim is to survive. This is the most he can hope for.

“Oh! Bum ah,” an old female beckons him as he is walking through the hallways. It is how they all address him in this wing. He was once told it means “exemplary” and takes it to be some kind of pre-war joke.

Survivors from before the exodus are oddities of time, and their conduct does not lessen the effect. They are outcasts too, in their own way. They are separated from their surviving kin, they are assigned work they are unfamiliar with, and they are given the smallest, darkest residences in the district. Their existence has become a life-long imprisonment. Kim 910923 spends his time among them, listening to them recount things and concepts he has no cognizance of. Houses with tiled roofs, trees with shade and fruit, animals and birds and fish that once lived among humans. He listens to their dream-like descriptions, wondering how much of it is true, and how much fallacy wearing a mask of sentimentality. 

The old female is struggling with a large bundle in her arms. He jogs towards her, helping by relieving her of it. 

She directs him down several passages until they reach the lowest level of the housing wing. The place is cold and not very well ventilated. As they move in the relatively dark environment, he hears coughing nearby. Feet shuffle under the deep hum of machinery, breath rattles as if about to grate to a halt.

Citizens above the age of sixty-five are considered to have reached the end of their life cycles. They can neither work, nor procreate. They are of no utility to the republic. They are sent away to places like this, out of everyone’s sight. 

When he puts the bundle down on the floor, he does not know what to say in the situation. The old female stretches her mouth in a warm expression and reaches up to pat his shoulder. “Thank you,” she nods, signalling him to leave.

Survivors of the war do not have inhibiting monitors installed in the backs of their ears—after a certain age, the procedure does not work. The faces of these old citizens move and shift and display things that exist inside them. Within their rib cages, he was once taught. Sometimes, in his solitude, Kim 910923 tries to replicate the expressions he is given. He stands in the middle of his residence, holding his palms to the skin of his cheeks as the corners of his lips spread out to either side. _A smile,_ he catches the word used by the auditors when he is reported for attempting it in public.

He wonders why it is illegal, this innocuous little thing. He wonders why anything is illegal if it has no direct bearing on their survival. Surely the republic isn’t so fragile as to be shaken up by something as harmless as a smile…

He leaves the female and others like her behind, making his way to the trains and riding them out to Wolgye division where Choi 911209 lives. Socialising is not common, but it is also not discouraged. Single citizens sometimes visit each other’s residences, he has witnessed them do it. He himself does not make a habit of dropping in on acquaintances, but the act gives him a sense of relief. It reminds him that he is not alone. 

He knocks on the door and fixes his clothing as he waits for her to answer. When she does, there is surprise in her eyes.

“I was not expecting you,” she admits, letting him in.

“I came to apologise,” he is quick to offer. “I… was harsh in my treatment of you. For that I am sorry.”

“You are forgiven, of course,” she accepts easily. They stand facing each other for a few silent moments, then seat themselves on her insistence. “May I offer refreshments?” she rises after a while, bringing out two pouches of glucose.

“Yes, thank you,” he accepts and a smile accidentally slips out onto his face.

“Careful,” Choi 911209 warns him of his mistake. “Remember your duties.”

He purses his lips and nods, looking at her for a moment before studying the unit. It is not much unlike his own. Its shape and size is nearly identical. But there is a sense of comfort to it that is not easy to attribute to anything tangible. Perhaps it is because the temperature controls in this wing are more efficient, or the furniture is newer than his own. Perhaps it is something else. He considers the place for a while until she breaks her silence.

“Eight births this year already, did you hear?” 

“That’s quite a number,” he approves. “I suppose when they’ve seismically stabilised Mapo district they may need it to house all the new social units.”

“It is far too soon for that,” she corrects, and there is a hint of a smile in her features too before she catches herself. Maybe he’s been a bad influence on her. “Although some successful partners have been petitioning the city to allow a second child in their household.”

He supposes being a supervisor in the administrative services has its perks—Choi 911209 always shares clandestine knowledge like this.

“And is the city open to such petitions?” he asks.

Her eyes take on a little fluid light at that. “No,” she murmurs, and he knows he must change the subject before it affects her too much. “It is not.”

* * *

_There is no feeling called “love.”_

_Beware of anyone who tells you otherwise. They are an agent of deviancy and disorder. They are the enemy. They will only bring another Disaster upon us. Report them to your nearest administrative office immediately. There is no such thing as love, and if you feel it then you have been corrupted. Your life is no longer of any use to the republic. You will be separated from your social order and exiled to live above ground, where your skin will melt and your bones will dissolve. There is no such thing as love. It is a capital crime to speak of such matters. Guard yourself from such heinous delinquency._

_There is no feeling called “love.” Remember it well._

* * *

Lee 891214 gives an involuntary groan when his hips stutter to a halt. He lays still for a moment before rolling off to the side, his breath plateauing to stability. 

Beside him, Lee 930718 brushes her sweaty hair back, immediately reaching for her clothes and making for the bathroom. He always wishes to ask her to wait a while, to let him hold her a moment longer. But there is no logical explanation for why he wishes this and so he refrains from ever mentioning it. 

On his communicator, he makes a note of the date and time. Above the entry are several other logs with a line struck across them. Citizens are required to track their efforts to conceive. The data is collected by auditors at every visit, and in certain cases that remain persistently unsuccessful…

He pushes the prospect out of his mind. Such thoughts will not lead to anything productive. 

“We will achieve a positive outcome,” Lee 930718 assures when she returns to his side, fully clothed. “It is only a matter of time. If we continue to try as we have been, we will soon be successful.” 

“That is correct,” Lee 891214 nods, pulling on his own clothes. “We have been doing our best for the last twelve months. Surely we will see favorable results soon.” He swipes a hand across his damp brow. “We have explored all available options,” he produces a tired sigh.

She blinks at him a moment. “I disagree with that statement.”

He turns to her in a silent question. 

“Perhaps we could double our efforts,” Lee 930718 coolly explains. “Perhaps repeating intercourse multiple times may be the answer—I am aware that it isn't the convention,” she dismisses before he can voice his confusion. She shifts in her place before turning back to him with decision in her expression. 

“I am aware. But I would rather not face the alternative.” Her small hand reaches for his. In a strange gesture of solidarity, she gives his rough palm a squeeze. “Would you?” she murmurs. 

He finds the action perplexing. Could it be classified as wayward? Should he report her? Is this what they meant by deviant behaviour? Was this what he was meant to keep an eye out for? Or is the action expected of someone desperate to produce a child? Someone who is unfailingly faithful to the republic and to sustaining its prosperity? 

He dithers for a few moments. “How do you propose we proceed?” 

Lee 930718 takes a while to respond, and when she eventually does, she does so wordlessly. Her arms hook onto his shoulders, her ankles lock around his waist, her fingers grip the back of his hair. Her breath is uncharacteristically heated and her voice… he has never heard her sound like that. He has never heard her sound like anything. Whenever they are joined, she remains silent and motionless under his grunting weight. Whenever they are joined, it is as if she is far away. He has never attempted to bring her back, he has never asked her for attention. And when the auditors dig their fingers into details, he circumnavigates the issue with promises of zeal.

Because she is right, he would rather not face the alternative either.

It leaves him befuddled then, when she moves in his lap, when she holds onto him, when she makes strange long-drawn sounds next to his ear. Now it is his turn to be silent and motionless. Now he wants to be far away. 

He lets her take control, but he cannot be certain if this is right. Something in the back of his mind pulls at him—something pricks and says this is infelicitous. The surveillance cameras continue to watch them from their corners and he watches them in return. His neck runs with sweat, his palms collect it. Their actions are worthy of retribution. Specifically his actions. He has led her to do this, he has allowed the situation to worsen so far beyond his control that they have now arrived here. At this moment: her keening and him gulping as he grips her small waist.

He expects guards to burst in at any moment before dragging them away to detention centers. 

It is a ridiculous thought, because they are assigned to each other. They have done nothing but fulfil their duty. They have always been cooperative—with the cause and with one another. But there is a ball of severe doubt in his chest, and when she shudders, grows tired and moves off of him, the ball only solidifies. It becomes a heavy iron sphere, weighing him down until he is looking for an exit. 

During the sleep cycle, Lee 891214 wanders aimlessly through the residence. He tries to read the latest bulletin, tries to find something to fix in the temperature control or the air handling unit. He tries to maintain distance from the other, his partner, who sleeps peacefully in their bed. He tries not to rush out of the door and into the corridor, looking for something to extirpate his unease.

* * *

Kim 910923 is a silent onlooker. 

Two males break into a fight right before his eyes. Truthfully, they aren't really fighting. One of them is clearly overpowering the other, and if he's allowed to continue pounding his fists into his victim's face there will be more than medical services arriving at the scene. Still, he watches the brawl like many other spectators around him. They are collectively baffled, unable to comprehend. He watches from a distance and tries hard to answer his confusion: what it is that draws everyone's attention to violence like this? What is so attractive about all this, that it stops everyone from continuing on their way? What is so tantalizing about two deviant males spouting loud harsh-sounding words and throwing punches at each other? What keeps him here, dazed by the sight, instead of moving forward and breaking the two of them up? 

No one moves. Not one foot stirs. At least a dozen pairs of eyes gather around the spectacle as if it is a miracle. As if it is a blessing. 

Kim 910923 wonders if childbirth looks anything like this.

There is something so base, so primal and raw about the scene that one could easily mistake it for the start of new life. There is something in the heat and blood and hostility that reminds him of the pulse in his own neck and wrists. He doesn't want the fight to end. He doesn't want one to give up and the other to stop. He doesn't want it to ever come to a close. He wishes the punches will continue, unending, arm after arm and thump after wet squelching thump. He does not wish for the fight to be resolved, because when it does he would have to return to the theatre. He would have to return to being what he needs to be and acting how he needs to act. For the good of the republic. 

Is this violence good for the republic, too? And if not, why does no one try to put a halt to it? What makes it so… hypnotic? Addictive? What makes it so mesmerizing? He feels a lively thrum in his fingertips when guards arrive and separate the two perpetrators. He feels like yelling at them for bringing the scene to an abrupt stop, for forcing him to pry his eyes away from such a…

Could he call it beautiful? Could he call it that, when he doesn't truly know what he would be measuring it against? His surroundings—are they beautiful? Is his life beautiful? What is beauty? What defines it? He knows the word exists but he does not believe he has ever seen a physical representation of it to be certain.

The guards sedate the two wounded males and Kim 910923 lets go of a sigh as they go limp. An auditor orders for all witnesses to be lined up and presented for questioning. They obey, as they always have, and shuffle forward to an elevator while they wait for further instructions. The situation is gathering more attention as other residents of the wing stop and watch from their floors. The theater will be full again for many months to come, he can tell. 

In the train, he sends Choi 911209 word of his temporary detainment before the communicator is confiscated from his grip and the monitors behind his ears are scanned. A loud electronic squeal makes him double over in pain. He holds his head and waits for the sound to die as he is tugged and pulled to stand upright. 

“Clear,” the auditor acquits him. “You are an administrator?” 

Kim 910923 stands to attention in his place. “Yes, sir,” he clips.

“Why did you allow the incident to escalate?” The question sounds like an accusation.

“Sir, I am not trained to mitigate emotional crimes,” he says with some defensiveness. “However, you will see in your logs that I was prompt in contacting medical services so they may—” 

“That can be corroborated later,” he is silenced. “I needn't remind you that it is your duty to ensure discipline is always maintained in the civilian wings. This is the responsibility you have been charged with.” The voice is cold and stern when addressing him, only adding to the discomfort of his ringing ears. 

“Shall I report you for non-performance?” 

Kim 910923 feels a strange shudder in his stomach. He has been taken in for deviation several times, and is a well-known face in the district office. But he has never been booked for non-performance. Never for that. He does not know if his superiors would let that slide. He does not know how much worse the punishment for that is. Nevertheless, the threat shakes his rationality and in that moment he has the sudden urge to be violent himself. He yearns to push the auditor aside and run towards safety. 

And he nearly does it too, even when he knows that nowhere in Seoul Special City is safe.

“I will do as you command, sir,” he replies and hopes it is enough. All he needs to do is survive, he reminds himself even as he can feel his breath begin to race a little. 

The dark eyes behind a shining visor judge him for a long and silent minute. They measure him and weigh him and calculate his worth as he stands and awaits judgement. He wills himself to appear dutiful, diligent, obedient. And it is only when the auditor dismisses him with a “return to your station immediately” that Kim 910923 breathes easy again.

* * *

_There is no feeling called “love.”_

_Do not entertain such thoughts, or you will be charged with insurrection. This is a public service announcement: all violations of protocol will be subject to disciplinary action. All deviant behaviour must be reported immediately, or you will be considered an accessory to the same. There is no such thing called love. Do not go looking for it. Do not attempt to climb the escalators towards the city above ground. There is no city above ground. There is no such thing called love. The republic exists because of grave errors in rationality, we must not allow a repeat of the Last Disaster._

_There is no feeling called “love.” You have been warned._

* * *

“Explain the situation, citizen,” the auditor starts his interrogation. 

Lee 891214 does not know where to begin. As expected, they approach him the following workday and present him with a video recording of them. If he had felt any shame at the sounds Lee 930718 had made at the time, it is only doubled now that he hears a tinny and scratchy version of them through the miniscule speakers of the communicator. 

Keeping time with his speeding pulse, the armband strapped to his bicep beeps repeatedly, like a wordless taunt. Once again, he wonders if a similar scene is unfolding at his partner’s workplace and feels the urge to go to her. To protect her.

But he must protect himself first.

“This indecency will not only cost you credits,” the auditor continues. “It will be entered on your permanent record that you have exhibited deviant behaviour. You were aware of this when you engaged in such an obscene and questionable act?” 

Lee 891214 does not show any form of acknowledgement until the question is repeated to him in a tone that sounds urgent. 

“I apologize,” he hangs his head low. The ceiling light is bright enough to leave burns on the back of his neck. “We were only doing as directed—”

“Your directions were to procreate, not to indulge in vulgarity such as this,” a finger taps the screen of the communicator and the video resumes playing, jeering at him. “The republic is weary of cases like yours, citizen. You are forgetting your responsibilities.” 

“I apologize,” Lee 891214 simply repeats for lack of any other justification he can provide. It doesn’t matter how much he tries to rationalise the situation, he is clearly in the wrong. “We are both dedicated to fulfilling the cause.” 

“And what cause is that?” he is quizzed. 

It takes him a moment but he eventually sits up straighter in his seat and begins reciting like a new trainee. “To ensure the survival of the republic. To maintain order and respectability. To live as a law-abiding citizen, working for the betterment of other law-abiding citizens. To remain dutiful to the republic, and to my assigned partner—” 

“And do you believe you have remained dutiful, citizen?” 

“I do,” the answer is spoken without hesitation, without a trace of guilt. 

By the look on his face, the auditor remains unconvinced. “I would be well within my rights to ship you off to a detention centre for disciplinary action,” his eyes are wide with threat when he speaks, the expression slowly diffusing as he goes on. “But. You score very highly on your functional requirements, and have been meritorious several times in the past,” he acknowledges with a slow nod. Behind the visor, his gaze turns downwards in an inexplicable expression of leniency. “Perhaps a reeducation class will suffice for now—but let this be a warning.”

Lee 891214 bows deeply when he is asked to leave the office and get back to his workstation. He has never been assigned reeducation, a shameful sentencing. But at least he is allowed to remain in his social group. At least he is allowed to live. He feels grateful for the chance. 

When he returns to the housing unit after work hours, Lee 930718 shows no remorse for her actions when he notifies her of the development. She listens, sets a reminder for the time he must leave for the theatre, and wordlessly goes about preparing their table for an end-day meal. 

“Perhaps,” he begins, breaking the silence in her stead when they are seated across from one another. “We should reflect and continue to maintain our usual routines a-and—”

“And if they do not come to fruition?” she challenges as she scoops more broken rice into her bowl. “If we do not produce a child in the stipulated time. If they seperate us. If they assign us to other citizens. If they test us to find we are impotent and then exile us," she lists. "What then?” her glance is uncharacteristically sharp, her tone oddly pointed. “ **You** are the problem. You are lacking. As a male and as a citizen. This is why we haven't seen any results yet.” 

When the words stab him, he feels a burning sensation in his face. He always blames himself for the shortcomings of his household, now it is clear she does too.

“I apologize,” he is left with saying once again. “I will try my best to correct my actions, and ensure our safety.”

Lee 930718 finishes her meal and retires to the bedroom without so much as a concession to him. He picks at his food, the shame and guilt bloating his stomach until he is left with no appetite. He has the sudden and unfamiliar urge to yell; to throw anything within his reach against the nearest wall and scream his lungs out until some kind of comfort, some form of satisfaction arrives. 

A while later, just before the sleep cycle, Lee 891214 joins his partner in bed but makes no move to address her. He does not try to question her or comfort her or even confront her about her earlier words. He doesn't lay a finger on her. Despite her verbally inviting him to, she never seems like she wants to be touched. But just then, as he watches the shape of her back and follows the swells of her breath, just in those moments she seems like she wishes she were somewhere else. Perhaps even with someone else. 

Lee 891214 turns away from his partner and makes an attempt at sleep.

* * *

Their world is a box, Kim 910923 reminds himself as he enters the examination room. 

The female is strapped into her chair by the wrists and ankles, buckles straining at the sight of him. "Are you going to touch me without asking too?" she says in a short and sharp tone. Her eyes look wild and her face is covered in circular dark red marks. Patterns. Not blood, but something else. A color of some kind. Streaks of it run across her cheeks and flake away where her face is stretched in a strange look. A look never before seen on a human female's face.

Kim 910923 stops in his tracks. Despite her cutting words, he senses that there is another emotion in her. Something… not as venomous. Something that requires quelling by him. It is a guess, but it is the best he can manage.

"I will not hurt you," he admits truthfully, but the female remains tense, her gaze boring into his face. 

"Get me out of here then," she speaks with a hiss. "Get me out of this— _fucking thing!_ " her voice rises several decibels as she returns to struggling out of the restraints. He watches her for several minutes, neither moving in to stop her nor deciding to help her. Her actions seem illogical, given the circumstances she is in. But Kim 910923 supposes she does not know to act with logic. None of the above ground dwellers do. 

Their world is a box. A box filled with light and stability. A box that must be protected at all costs. It is a delicate balance, one to be maintained at a constant with the efforts of its citizens and administrators and auditors. It is a vision that must remain completed, realised. And those who threaten to upturn this perfect balance are removed from the equation altogether; sent back up by the escalators and destined to die among the remnants of the old world. 

But perhaps they do not die. Perhaps they have managed to survive, like the republic. Perhaps human beings are more resilient than they think. Kim 910923 watches her rattling the chair until she stops of her own accord. Then he finally approaches.

Once every three years, the maintenance survey team ascends to the topmost level of their city and carries out routine inspections. They clean the ducts and repair the sensors and ensure all the systems that sustain their life underground continue to run as planned. Once every three years, they come back with status reports on their operations, and on what they are able to see of anything that still remains above ground. 

There is no record of them ever returning with other humans.

"I have been assigned with inoculating you," Kim 910923 explains patiently when the female calms down by a degree. He holds up the vaccines to support his statement, finally approaching her side. "This is for respiratory allergies," he lists. "This is for typhoid. This is for tetanus. And this one for cervical cancer." He places them all down on a tray in front of her. "I will need to inject these intravenously through your arm. It is imperative you agree to receiving these as they ensure your well-being, and that of—"

"Why do you care about that?" she spits the question. "Why would you people give a fuck about my _well-being_ when all you want to do is make a slave out of me?"

He looks down at her with confusion. "The republic does not enslave its citizens," he points out the obvious.

"Really?" she says in a tone that holds challenge, her teeth bared and her eyes wide. "So what was all that shit those guys said when they found us, eh? All that about viable eggs?" She pulls at the buckles around her ankles once again, speaking from behind a tightly grit jaw. "What's all this for, then?" 

Kim 910923 does not know how to answer her, so he draws a nearby stool over and takes a seat in it. He continues to silently monitor her agitated movements, waiting for her to grow tired. It does not take much, he was told she has not had a meal in a long time. None of them have, it seems. 

When Choi 911209 had conveyed the news to him, she spoke softly and walked away before he had a chance to raise any queries. He does not know who these three females are, how they survived to reach their current age, or how their ovaries are still healthy enough to support gestation. He does not know how the republic will benefit from fertilizing the eggs of such deviant, nearly criminal humans. 

He theorizes that no one knows.

She soon slumps back in the examination chair, quietly producing moisture from her eyes. He watches with fascination, surprised to witness such a reaction from someone so young. Only the oldest citizens in his wing ever display such odd behaviour. He watches transfixed, a small portion of him not wanting her to stop.

But she does, and when he deems it appropriate to, he stands to resume his duties.

"You will be safe here," he tries to convince as he rubs alcohol on her bicep, where more circular marks are drawn on her dark sun-baked skin. She is lean, but she is strong. He wonders what profession she will be assigned. "The republic affords stability for all. You will be given a warm residence, ample rations, respectable clothes," he takes in her attire of dusty grey rags. "You will live as a human being should." 

"Not by my choice," she murmurs in an exhausted voice. 

"Did you have a choice before?" he inquires, not to argue but hoping to sate his own curiosity. "Above ground. Are you not forced to live a desperate existence? Kill or be killed?" He takes a step back when he has administered her with the first booster. "You will never have to be alone here. You will be assigned a social group. All citizens live and work for a common goal," he reproduces by rote. "Seeing the republic successfully thrive is akin to salvation. There is nothing more enriching, nothing more rewarding, than the promise of stability."

The female stares at him as he speaks, making him nearly falter a few times. There is an unknown depth in her gaze, an emotion he does not understand. There is something strange, something he has never seen before. But unlike her first expression, this one makes him feel small, defenseless. It makes him want to crumple onto his stool and let himself fall apart, however that may manifest.

"The... the republic will protect you," he nods, regardless. "As it protects the rest of us."

"You really believe all that?" she asks, her tone soft and full of condolence.

As he sighs in the only reply he can give, Kim 910923 feels her restraints clamp on himself instead.

* * *

_There is no feeling called “love.”_

_But if there were... how would it come to be? What would it be like to be loved? What would it make one feel, to know that they are loved and that they have someone to love? There is no such thing as love. So why did we create the word in the first place? Why did we make it up, what was it meant to describe? What was the purpose of having a descriptor for something that does not even exist? There is no such thing as love, we tell ourselves over and over. So is there truly something we can call love, that is born inside us, that lives its lifetime within us, that makes itself at home between the four chambers of our pumping, beating, spluttering hearts?_

_There is no feeling called “love” we say. But what do we know?_


	2. - 범죄자

_Citizens do not feel "love."_

* * *

“Forty-nine more to come,” Choi 911209 says. The surprise in her tone is missing from her features, so Kim 910923 flashes it instead. Not only has the number been high in recent days, this session is additional to their usual schedule. 

“I will prepare the headsets,” he nods, but pauses a moment to share a look with the other. He has been meaning to say this all workweek, but he has also been putting off the subject lest the conversation end in disagreement again.

“Perhaps…” he begins regardless, voice quiet and pronunciations tentative. “Perhaps there has been an unprecedented spike in incidents. What else would explain the high rates of deviancy?” he shakes his head in question. “This may well be a ripple effect of some kind… this may well mean something!” he hisses conspiratorially.

If his supervisor has any thoughts on the subject, she keeps them to herself. Ever since the three new females arrived, she has been uncharacteristically withdrawn. When she holds her silence, he does not try to coax anything out of her. In return, when he doesn't pursue the subject, she does not try to assure him or reinforce his concerns. They remain quiet, and their questions remain unspoken and unanswered. Watching one another for several more minutes, they stay in the room until they must ready the theatre for its last screening of the awake cycle.

Sometimes Kim 910923 wishes he could read minds.

The line of citizens is quiet. They drift in from the lobby of the theatre and silently hand over their communicators. Lee 891214 takes note of a male who crosses their names off an electronic list: a pair of dark drill-like eyes reads designations where they are stitched on their white overalls. Lee 891214 avoids the gaze when he passes, out of shame and out of habit. The sooner he can leave this place, the less constricted his chest will feel.

“Please take your seats. We will begin shortly,” a tall female announces and starts to distribute hearing devices among the gathered citizens. She explains that the sounds of the film are broadcast directly to each of them, as this avoids unnecessary acoustic disturbances to neighbouring spaces. Yeongdeungpo is an important place with important people, after all. He decides to take this at face value even when he knows that by virtue of being one of the older districts, the thick walls around them have a sound transmission class greater than any other in the republic.

Despite his anxious doubts, he wordlessly accepts the headset and fixes it over his ears.

When the lights begin to dim, Lee 891214 looks around at the full theatre. He is surrounded by others who have been sentenced to a reeducation regimen. They look like him too, just the same as the citizens in his workplace. They all have the same empty gaze and unmoving features as him. They are identical, nothing brands them as being deficient in any way. Nothing marks them as deviants. And when they queue out to the intermediate area after this session, no one will be able to single any of them out.

How do the auditors keep track of so many deviants, he wonders, just as the projector begins to click somewhere behind him.

The movie is now so familiar to Kim 910923, he can reproduce its sounds even without a pair of headsets. It begins with quick, short clips that portray long leaps of development in the republic’s relatively new history. Then it slowly delves into the past, with the most widely-circulated images from the Last Disaster—grainy photos of an explosion, black craters in the ground that go unimaginably deep. There is famine and disease. There is chaos and death. Miles with no relief in sight. And precipitating it all is radioactive fallout that settles like snow and infects everything with an abnormality. The roads fill with it, roofs and gutters heave under its weight. People scream and wail on hospital gurneys as surviving medical staff attend to hopeless burn wounds.

What follows is just as stark: days of darkness. No clean water, no edible food. No shelter from the firestorms that raged for months, no sunlight to give the few survivors hope to keep trying. Keep living. A bitter nuclear winter that froze blood in its tracks. A seething nuclear summer that incinerated all that remained.

The audience is mesmerized by the images, likely thinking them to be something out of a nightmarish fictional entertainment feature. 

Soon, the scenes return to the clean and perfect environment underground. The air is breathable. The light is shining. The spaces are large and not overcrowded. People live in peace. Society works consistently at every level, without dissent or disagreement. Life cycles are long and spent in the pursuit of retaining the values of their new civilisation, their new republic.

Humankind has created a paradise from hell, this is the inference one can draw from the movie. 

Occasionally, the emblem of Seoul Special City flashes on the screen, and on cue Choi 911209 applauds from her place in the corner of the hall, signalling for the audience to do the same. They follow easily, the sound going back and forth between them. This is a sign of their appreciation; of gratitude that they have been given a second chance to keep working for a monumental cause.

Nearing the end of the movie, the visage of Primary Citizen Park appears on screen and waves magnanimously to them. The applause immediately grows louder, bordering on raucous, nearly drowning out her words.

“My fellow citizens,” she speaks, in clear words, with pointed diction. Her face is serene, her stare is unclouded. Even though she is an image on a screen she seems to be focused on every single face watching her. “We have created history. We have built our dreams into reality. We have mastered the forces of nature itself, shaping our destiny with our own hands. This would not be possible without all your hard work and talent. This would never have come to be had any one of us not done their part. This success belongs to each citizen in equal measure,” she nods. “I congratulate us all.”

Lee 891214 is familiar with all this, he has experienced it before. The rush, the spiritual fondness, the absolute devotion. He continues to clap his hands through the duration of the speech, standing when everyone stands and yelling with the same vigor as the rest of the room. “Mansae! Mansae! Mansae!”

As Primary Citizen Park goes on to list the various accomplishments of the republic in its sixty years of existence, the image on the screen is blotted out by its audience's enthusiastic motions. Arms up in the air mid-cheer, Lee 891214 whips his head around to look at the rest of the congregation. They are as jubilant as him, every single one of them. He affirms by this unanimous display of fervour that he is normal. They are normal. Everything and everyone is completely normal. Things will soon go back to being as they always were. 

He glances back, towards the projector. But instead of the expected zeal, he finds perplexing silence. A shadow lives behind the halo of shifting light, sitting motionless for a while before it moves and betrays its existence. Abruptly sobered, Lee 891214 watches it stir; watches it survive, like he does, but quietly. Without a sound. He watches it as it undoubtedly watches him, wondering if in those few moments of mindless enthusiasm, the figure has managed to see more of Lee 891214 than he is willing to show anyone.

Kim 910923 is slightly perturbed by the male observing him. He wears the clothes of an ordinary citizen but there is something about him that arouses uncertainty. Is he an auditor sent to monitor the facility? Is he someone investigating an attendee in the audience? Is this an officer who has seen his file, seen his list of transgressions and decided that Kim 910923 must be removed from his social group and sent off to be detained after all? 

Or worse... exiled. Forcibly ejected in exchange for the three new additions to their population.

The stare directed at him is steady, unmoving. Like a weapon. It does not falter even as the audience of the hall calms down. It does not look away even as Choi 911209 directs everyone to stand in a line and await scanning. He feels growingly uneasy the longer he is at the receiving end of that look. It is like an attack, non-violent and invisible. He feels the need to look for a weapon of his own—a real one, something to defend himself with.

But if this male is truly someone sent to watch him, there is nothing Kim 910923 can do about it. He must wait and be judged.

“... citizen? Citizen, are you infirm? Citizen—”

Lee 891214 is shaken from his reverie when long fingers close around his wrist. He jerks away in surprise and loses his balance, falling back into his chair. The tall administrator is towering above him, but there is no threat in her stance. She gives off a sense of concern, and it births in him a strange draw towards her. He does not understand it. In those few moments, he does not understand his own thoughts. 

“Citizen,” a firmer tone addresses him. 

Lee 891214 returns to his feet and mumbles an apology before rejoining the queue awaiting release. There is some shuffling, some coughing and sideways glancing in his direction until a male appears from the projection room and holds the heavy entry doors open.

The slope of his wide shoulders is unfamiliar, the color of his eyes is an obsidian Lee 891214 has never seen before. His attire consists of spotless white pants and an equally pristine sweater. A commonplace administrator and yet... and yet something about him is not so common. Something about him is hard to place. 

When he gives a curt nod, the line begins to move.

Kim 910923 watches them all with his usual vigilance. When the male at the end of the row approaches, he stands a bit taller in a bid to leave his best impression on the other lest he really be an officer. He bows his head in respect when they are face to face, and holds out a polite arm in the direction of the theatre lobby.

The male watches him with open curiosity, as if Kim 910923 were an antique, a being older than the Last Disaster and the First. He raises his eyebrows in a silent question. _Are you alright?_ he wants to convey in the expression, but instead of being an assurance it seems to unnerve the citizen even more. He visibly gulps, the bump in his throat prominent as it moves. 

“... thank you for your service,” the voice that addresses him is low but gentle. Meek. Like it has been trained to hide unless it is allowed out of the male's mouth. 

Kim 910923 reads the designation on the male's uniform. “We exist to serve. Just as you do, Citizen Lee.” Reflexively, a little smile betrays his stoic face.

Lee 891214 feels growing alarm at the sight of the uncommon expression. He senses his heart rate increase, feels his breath catch in his throat. On cue, his inhibiting monitors buzz and send him a warning beep.

Following his training, he closes his eyes and sucks in a deep breath. _Remember your duties,_ he chants in his mind. _Remember your duties._

The other does not address him again, and Lee 891214 dashes out without a second glance. He cannot tell if this is all part of a test, if his loyalty is being questioned and his morals are being challenged. He cannot say with any certainty if the administrator was probing into his emotional state. Perhaps it was so and perhaps his failures are being recorded. Perhaps he is being watched even closer than before. Perhaps his household, his social status are endangered. Perhaps he would be wise to expect being investigated for criminal behavior.

Or perhaps this foreboding, blooming and taking up space inside him... perhaps that is the real sentence he must serve. 

On the train, his head and palms run with perspiration. Lee 891214 clutches at the fabric of his overalls to keep his hands from shaking. Another warning beep nearly makes him jump out of his seat. The rest of the occupants of the carriage turn their gazes to him, but no one speaks. No one approaches. All they do is watch. Stare. Bore into him like they want to see what is concealed within his mind. 

He squeezes his eyes shut for the remainder of the journey.

* * *

_Citizens do not feel “love.”_

_They feel pride, that their republic is thriving because of their unceasing loyalty. They feel_ _fulfillment, when their deeds directly and positively affect the lives of other citizens. They feel honored, to be living in a time and place of such magnificent progress. They feel satisfied, that they have lived to ensure the future of their republic is secure in the hands of their offspring. Citizens do not feel love, because it is not a real feeling. It has no worth, and only leads to jealousy. Privacy. Non-conformance. Deviancy. Inequality._

_Citizens do not feel “love.” Such things will only lead to ruin._

* * *

“And what does the doctor have to say today?” the female asks when Kim 910923 takes a seat in front of her. 

She has been dressed in the standard overalls, her once-wild hair now bound together in a tidy bun. The markings have been washed from her skin and so has the grime. She is still quite tan, nearly golden. Her build is short, as are her fingers. Her hips are wide and her teeth are strong. Despite her curves she is not smooth, she consists of edges and corners; of unseen pulsing strength. Her appearance is clearly unlike any of the other citizens, bearing no resemblance to their sallow faces and their dim eyes. The radiance gives her an appearance of being less human. Less real and more… fantastical.

He studies her curiously until she clicks her fingers in front of his face. “I apologise,” he immediately offers and lowers his gaze, knowing how she dislikes anyone ogling at her.

“Hmm, you're a polite one, aren't you?” 

Unlike their last encounter, she seems pacified. Not resigned, but… almost at peace. They'd forced her to sit through several sessions in the theatre one day, and Kim 910923 had monitored her with interest from his projector box. She looked at everyone with distrust and her face constantly moved like it was out of her control. Sometimes her body seemed out of control too, tripping over things, grabbing onto other things, staying away from even more things.

But now she is steady. Now the metal keeping her in check no longer seems to bother her. She lets it hang off her body, treating it like heavy adornments. Even as a captive she bears herself with overwhelming confidence. It oozes from her, in all her actions and all her sentences. He nearly resumes staring at her.

“I… I must prepare you for social integration,” he explains, holding out a blank white patch of cloth. “I am here to assign you your designation.” 

“Designation?” she crosses her legs and sits back in her chair. The chains that weigh her down clank with each movement. There is a hint of a smile on her face, but it doesn't look like any smile he has ever seen. It appears to hold an element of challenge. He doesn't comprehend its meaning but wonders what other odd and forbidden expressions he will witness today. 

“What's that, then?” 

“It is what you will be addressed by,” he nods. “I am Administrator Kim,” he points at the stitching on his chest. “Once you complete your training, you will qualify to be a citizen and—”

“Do you mean a name?” she asks. “I already have one of those.” 

“A… a name,” he repeats the strange word.

She nods. “Kim… is that your family?” she points her chin in the direction of the word. “What did your mother call you?” 

“I… I am unsure what you are referring to,” he shakes his head, confused. 

She makes an impatient sound. “Above ground, when we're born, our mother chooses a name for us. Mine is Junghee.” She tilts her head with expectation. “What's yours?” 

“I…” he feels his confusion heighten. “I suppose… I suppose I do not have one.”

“A name? …or a mother?” 

“What **are** mothers?” 

Her eyes widen at that, grow lighter until they look like liquid sugar. “You don't—you don't have a family?” 

“Do you mean… my social unit?” he tries to decipher. “I was not assigned one. I live by myself.” 

The wide eyes soften. Their softness makes him want to move closer to her. It makes him wish she could hold him in some way. As a form of... consolation, perhaps. He wishes he could hold her in return. But she has clearly voiced her displeasure on something like that before, so he considers the blank patch in his hold instead.

“You don't have someone you love?” she asks after a moment.

He jolts a little at the forbidden word. “Please refrain from such vulgar language,” he chides.

Her eyebrows come together for a moment before she lets out a loud exhale from her throat. It changes into sound, and Kim 910923 is alarmed. He looks around himself, unsure of what to do, how to perceive this new... thing. But she only grows louder and he is struck by how. How melodic she seems. Like the soft ringing of a bell somewhere far away.

He listens to her, sees images of water showering to the earth, bathing it with warm moisture and filling it until it becomes ripe. Ready to sprout green and red from its surface. It is a startling thought, like the echo of something he has seen with his own eyes. 

Enamored, he watches the face accompanying the action, trying to memorize it so he can attempt to reproduce it later.

“Never a dull moment you, doctor Kim,” the female who calls herself Junghee shakes her head. 

“I… I am no physician,” he replies, but his voice seems small and unsteady to his own ears.

When the sound from her throat goes quiet, she remains smiling at him. “So?” she nudges her chin and looks pointedly at the cloth in his hold. “Are you going to… assign me a new name? Make me another person? Someone I'm not?”

He ponders over the words for a while, staring again, studying again, curious again. Even as she holds his gaze with her own, matching his observation with hers, they steep in each other’s silence. And in the absence of words something else passes between them: a quiet acknowledgement. An unspoken admission of solidarity. It is neither unnerving nor disconcerting. It is not something to cause him to raise an alarm. He accepts her peace into himself. 

“No,” he eventually answers. “I suppose it is only correct. That we call you by what you truly are. Junghee,” he nods, his decision solidifying.

When her smile widens, he notices her eyes are just as golden as the rest of her.

* * *

Lee 930718 remains mordant in her words, of which there are fewer and fewer as the uneventful work days pass. 

In the two-day interval since he began his reeducation, Lee 891214 becomes reticent as well. He often finds himself losing his train of thought. He often becomes more quiet and less attentive when she does speak with him, startling out of his reveries when she claps her hands. 

“You are distracted,” she accuses him once during a meal. “I sense you are losing sight of your priorities. Shall I report you to the auditors?” 

He hears her but the meaning of the words does not register in his mind. It is wandering elsewhere, reminiscing over stygian eyes and carefree lips; remembering orderly hair and nails that somehow don't seem as orderly or ordinary at second glance.

She repeats herself, louder and with more severity in her tone, but he simply glances at her before standing from his chair and wandering to the exercise room. “As you see fit,” he acquiesces through his preoccupation.

He is halfway to the door when she calls for him again. “I have been informed,” she begins. “If we do not show results before the next session, we will be liable for detention.”

He turns to look at her with discomposure. “This was an official warning?” he doubts, then hastens back to her. “Why was I not informed of this too?”

She stares at him, once again searching his face. “You were,” she replies. “Just now.”

He doesn’t know how to perceive her words. Is she threatening him? Is she entreating him? Is she simply relaying a message to him? As she glares in his direction, he probes her countenance too. But as always there is nothing to be found on her cold, hard, unmoving face. Lee 930718 does not give herself away no matter how pressing the situation. She keeps to herself. She keeps everything within her locked shut and does not give anyone the key. Sometimes he wonders if she holds the key herself anymore. Perhaps not. Perhaps when he does ultimately open her up, he will find nothing but emptiness inside her.

He is the first to look away from their staring contest.

Hours later, when he is above her, the memory of the strange administrator and his face returns. He remembers the way two lips lifted at their corners, the way a dip appeared in a smooth cheek, the way a damaged eyebrow defied the perfection of everything else around them. He remembers how the expression shot a spark within his brain and left him helpless.

Grunting and breathing hard, he remembers the encounter, and a new notion occurs to him. If one were to ask him to quantify it he wouldn’t know what numbers to start with. This thought is far beyond the realm of math, born within him in those late hours of the sleep cycle. Lee 891214 does not kill it. This is one instinct he does not tamp down or question with his rationality. 

He raises himself on his arms until he can see all of Lee 930718; until he can watch her as he moves.

She notices him rise off of her and displays confusion, followed by something that seems akin to discomposure. “Stop,” she murmurs, not to his hips but to his gaze. The longer he watches her, the louder her voice gets. “Stop that,” she orders and covers his eyes with a hand. The touch is warm and damp, making him lean into it, even try and taste some of it with his tongue. “S-stop it…! Don’t—don’t look at me!” she warns and presses her small palm against his forehead to make a point. 

An odd rush goes through him, from his throat to the join of his legs. He thrusts hard and presses into her in response. She makes a now-familiar and loud sound, her fingers fumbling around to clutch at his hair. When he repeats the motion, he watches her throw her head back and bite into her lip. The sight tugs at him, makes him believe he has finally found her key. It makes him want to keep doing what he is doing. And so he does, only to have her recreate the stringy sounds from several nights ago when she’d sat across his legs and taken control. 

He doesn’t know what this reaction is. He has never seen or felt it before. He doesn’t know why it makes him feel emboldened to see her like that, or to feel her grip tightening when she shudders under him. He doesn’t know why it makes him feel good, like he has accomplished something great when she doesn’t immediately move away from him. He cannot comprehend why she lets him hold her as they gather more sweat, why she asks him to touch her in places he has never thought to touch. As a second shudder passes through her small frame, he realises this is no longer a physical exercise. This is not a duty to be fulfilled. This is something else now, something that may mark them as more than just deviants.

When she claws at the flesh of his rear, he feels a another rush go down his front. He yearns to be inside her again.

It is only when she is finally tired and asleep beside him that his shame and unease resurfaces. But Lee 891214 does not leave the room. He does not try to get away from her. He stays with an arm across her waist and looks at the surveillance camera in the corner of the ceiling, matching its unblinking red glare with his own.

Something inside him is breaking.

* * *

_Citizens do not feel “love.”_

_We are not born with the ability to feel love, because love does not serve a function. It is vestigial. That we mention it from time to time, only to curse it, attests to its vile repugnance. Citizens do not feel love, and neither should they, for it brings pain. It brings suffering and chaos and Disasters. Do not let it survive. Do not let it breathe. Suffocate it. Trample it under your industrious and dedicated feet, fellow citizens. Ensure that it cannot sustain in our great and glorious republic. Citizens do not feel love. This is a public service announcement. Love should not be allowed to thrive. It is a disease. It is a sickness that has no cure. Should you identify its symptoms in anyone, report them immediately._

_Citizens do not feel “love.” You have been warned._

* * *

On every subsequent visit to the theatre, Lee 891214 cannot concentrate. 

He tries his best to keep his eyes on the screen and he does as the others do when they stand and cheer and yell their hurrahs. He puts on his headphones, sits when told to sit, claps when he hears applause from other seats. He watches Primary Citizen Park address him as long as he can bear it. But if questioned, he cannot truthfully say he has tried his best, because it is obvious he is tormented by something.

Someone.

When he looks in the direction of the peculiar and mystifying administrator, he only finds a featureless silhouette. No longer does he appear to glow as he did in the light: he is made of darkness and coal. The gleam of his gaze the knit of his brow the quirk in his mouth... they are hidden. And yet he radiates just as much heat, like steam issuing from a broken tempering valve of a boiler.

For days he has been all Lee 891214 thinks about, all he is preoccupied with. For days he imagines the shifting face is within his reach and wonders what it would feel like to touch it. He wonders what it would be like to talk at length with the male—where does he live, what is his social group, does he have a partner, has he produced offspring? And even as these questions arise he realises they are not what he is truly curious about. 

Kim 910923 is yet again disturbed by the staring male. He grits his teeth and focuses on his task, hands mechanically working the projection machine. If Choi 911209 notices the aberrant behaviour from where she stands, she is diligent in her duties. She leads the audience and assists them throughout the session. The pressure of being watched so closely makes him uneasy. If he is not being investigated, there is no doubt in his mind that this male must be separated from the rest and held here until the real auditors arrive.

He prepares to make a report, thinking the words in his mind before he gets a chance to type them out on his communicator. But just when he finds a moment to lodge the complaint, the audience has left the theatre and the door to his office opens.

He looks up and opens his mouth in a greeting, expecting Choi 911209 has come to give him an update on the next viewing.

The deviant male presents himself in her place. 

“You,” Kim 910923 frowns and stands up, His eyes dart around for any sign of his supervisor and find he is alone in this situation. Immediately, he assumes an authoritative stance. “I will be informing the auditors, citizen. You have been clearly abstracted during reeducation,” he scolds. “Let me remind you that you are currently being punished, and to drift off as you have through every session is a sign of disrespect to the republic. I will not hesitate to—”

“I wish to speak with you,” the citizen appeals.

Lee 891214 almost covers his mouth as the words fall off his tongue before he can stop himself. To see the administrator again, to note his changing features, to hear his heavy voice and feel his drilling eyes... that alone makes his body react more intensely than it did when he let himself go with Lee 930718. His pulse is jumping, his palms are slick. A buzz and a beep from the inhibitor makes him falter. He searches the other's eyes for any sign of alarm at the warning, but when the administrator nether stops him nor continues reproaching him, he only feels encouraged.

“I… I wish for a conversation.”

If the other is bewildered or surprised by the request, his face does not betray him. Hesitating for several moments, he grants his permission by nodding.

“Certainly.” 

There is a surprising benevolence in the action. It draws Lee 891214 even closer. He had expected to be denied, to be turned away and told to return to his station. He had expected for his words to be undervalued, swiftly and without any latitude for reconsideration. But here he is, asking and receiving. There is no sign of price or consequence. Here he is, and here they face each other, no one rushing in to stop them.

He notices the other’s hands on the back of a chair and, inexplicably, reaches to cover them with his own hold. They are big and cup-like. Their fingers are long and elegant. He wants to push his full weight onto them. He wants to give the contact his all through his own stubby sweaty grip, wondering how much he’d have to push to imprint the other on his palms. 

When he looks up he finds two sable eyes. He has never seen eyes like this. They swim with light, like a lamp sits within each one, glowing with warmth and… and something else. He doesn't know the word for it but if it had a taste, it would be sweet.

Kim 910923 flinches away. “W-what… what do you wish to discuss, citizen?” he asks in an attempt to remain imperious even as he nervously rubs a wrist. He does not like being touched. He does not like any form of physical contact. The few times in the past when one of the old females have held his hand or patted his shoulder or ruffled his hair—he has allowed it for only a few moments before drawing himself closed, raising his invisible shield and staying securely in place behind it.

Being touched reminds him of his station. It reminds him he is alone, that he will always be alone. Being touched drives home the fact that the touch is temporary. That another touch may not follow, and that he will continue waiting, hoping, wondering when that next time will occur. To Kim 910923, being touched is a sacred thing.

When he does not receive an answer, he clears his throat and tries again, louder still. “Citizen, you will respond when spoken to or—”

“May I… may I inspect your hands, sir?” the male cuts into the question. 

Kim 910923 fluctuates, but keeps his arms folded across his chest. “For what purpose?”

A befuddled look turns up to him. “I… I cannot explain myself, sir,” the male shakes his head. “There... assume there is no reason for it. It is simply. Simply something I wish to do.”

“Everything has a reason, citizen,” Kim 910923 rebukes. “Nothing is purposeless. Reconsider your request.”

Once again, Lee 891214 speaks before he thinks. “Cyanosis,” he nods.

A frown. “Wh-what?”

“This… this location has ageing circulation systems. The rate of air changes required for the facility to continue functioning as intended… it is likely our systems fall short of that requirement. I—we,” he corrects himself. “We have been tasked with confirming if this is the case. And,” he sustains the momentum of his lie. “And the first sign of this is... cyanosis,” he explains. “Poor oxygen levels in the bloodstream of frequent occupants. Such as yourself, sir.”

The male considers this information for a while. He can see the gears of the other’s thoughts turn behind his bottomless gaze. “Very well…” he relents even as his face remains uncertain. 

Immediately, Lee 891214 takes control of the offerings and maneuvers them until they stand palm-to-palm. Their skins are different hues, their fingers are different lengths, their bodies run at different temperatures. This is what strikes him foremost in that moment—that they are so different from one another. They are both male, but they are not identical. They both belong to the republic but they are not equals: not socially, not functionally, not even visually. If they are ordinary on their own, together they are not. Together, they are clearly… clearly _unordinary._

Lee 891214 even ventures so far as to think they are special in that moment, as long and bony digits stay unrelenting against his short and inept ones.

He presses forward, arms and feet closing in on the other. He moves in until they are close enough for him to be able to count each blinking eyelash and trace along a surprised eyebrow. He wants to say something, to give the other some word or sign that relays significance. He wants to convey how he is breaking and this is just an external manifestation of that. Because if he speaks it aloud and tells this administrator about it... if he seeks counsel now, perhaps it will be true. It will convince him that there is something terribly wrong with him.

“Citizen,” a deep and sonorous voice tries to break the spell. “A-are you infirm?”

He doesn’t know how to respond. He doesn’t know what the correct answer is.

“I wish to see you again,” the male sighs against his chin. Kim 910923 begins shaking his head and stepping away before the other locks their fingers together, binding them into a tight and unyielding hold. 

“You are due for three more sessions, citizen. You will see me then—” he gasps when the grip between his knuckles grows firmer.

“I wish to see you again. Outside the theatre,” the male says in a tone that sounds almost pleading. “At your residence, perhaps?”

Kim 910923 looks from their joint hands to the male’s face; to the intensity in his eyes and the eagerness in his actions. “S-social visits are not encouraged,” he advises. “You may even be penalised for it.”

A shake of the head, a lowering of the arms, a beseeching glance. “I wish to keep looking at you.”

Who is he, this citizen Lee? Where did he come from? Because he does not act like anyone else Kim 910923 knows. He is clearly not an ideal citizen. But he is also not like a deviant, or a repeat offender. He is not like a survivor, either. This male is...not just a male. He is something more. He is—a word he remembers Junghee describing to him. 

He is a man. 

It takes a lot of self-restraint not to push the other away from himself. “You are in violation of the rules, citizen,” he speaks in a low tone. “Return to your station now before I report you.”

“So report me,” the male uncharacteristically eggs him on. “You will be considered an accomplice. Sir,” he whispers close between their mouths and finally Kim 910923 frees himself, staggering backwards and searching for something to use as protection.

Despite the shock to his own self, Lee 891214 straightens and continues to gawk at the other. He would take another step forward, but at the sound of the door, they both turn around to see the tall female administrator enter.

She looks between the two of them, remaining in her position. “I hope all is in order here?” she asks as she takes out her communicator. It is a sign for him to leave.

“Thank you for your service,” Lee 891214 repeats to them both and scuttles away.

It takes him several hours to calm from what he can only call a major error. He splashes his face with water, tries to recite multiplication tables in his mind to calm himself down. Math is reliable. Math never lies. Math keeps him calm. The mental exercise has always worked before but it does nothing to quell his misgivings now. He has been a deviant. He has behaved in a manner frowned upon, in the vicinity of an administrator, immediately following a reeducation session no less. But he feels no remorse for his actions. He feels pride instead.

All he can do now is wait for guards to drag him away.

* * *

_Citizens do not feel “love.”_

_Emotions will only be expressed as prescribed to you during training._ _The monitors will alert you and others around you of any deviation from this list._ _For further information, refer to your citizen handbooks. Citizens do not feel love. Remember that your score in a_ _standard emotional stimulation test will determine whether you are fit to continue within your current social group. Any changes will directly affect your work. The republic depends on you to act responsibly. Citizens do not feel love. They feel nothing. The auditors will ensure it. The officers will applaud it. Our society will reward it._

_Citizens do not feel “love.” Proceed as instructed._

* * *

“So he likes you,” Junghee nods when he is showing her around Nowon district. 

She has been assigned a residence nearby, and like Kim 910923 she takes to spending most of her time with the old survivors. They ask her about the landmarks they have left behind, famous buildings and monuments that celebrated their history and were obliterated by the dropping of a single warhead. She tells them about these places, speaks hopeful words and relays positive news of the world above ground.

But in confidence, she admits she is lying. “Sometimes hope is all we have to live for, you know?” she explains when he challenges her actions. “Who am I to take that away from them?”

She is no longer eligible for a pair of monitors, so they keep her wrists chained even when she is in public spaces. It makes her a target of curiosity. Several other citizens watch her as she passes by them. It seems to bolster her confidence, making it even loftier than he remembered it from their first few exchanges. 

He has been tasked with ensuring her integration into society goes smoothly and without incident. He has also been tasked with ascertaining if she poses a threat to other citizens, staying beside her at all times and never letting her get close to anyone else. Secretly, he does not think he needs to guard her because he does not think she is dangerous. If anything, she is insightful. He appreciates her profundity when he expresses curiosity about life above ground, or about her experience with human emotions.

“I… I do not understand,” Kim 910923 responds as he does to most things she says. “What does that mean? That he likes me?”

“Hmm, I can’t tell you for sure,” she responds in cryptic terms. “It’s different for everyone, you know?” she goes on when she senses his impatience. “Usually, when I like someone, I want to spend more time with them. I want to talk to them. I want to know how they feel—about me, about the world, about themselves.” She looks at him as they wait on a platform. “Maybe that’s how it is? With this… Lee guy?”

Kim 910923 remains confused. “But what purpose does it serve?” 

“What?” she leans her ear in and asks over the sound of an arriving train.

“What purpose does liking someone serve?” he yells.

She gives him a look that could either mean she hasn’t heard him, or that she did but doesn’t understand him. There isn’t a lot about the republic that makes her express incomprehension. She seems to instinctively pick up unspoken meanings and untold implications, some of her guesses confounding Kim 910923 until she elaborates.

When they’re in the train and it’s about to pull out of the station she finally answers, looking around her in awe.

“I like you,” she begins.

He turns to her with some surprise. “You also wish to spend time with me?”

She nods at the electronic displays before turning to him. “I do. I want to be your friend. You’re nice to me. You’re respectful. You’re kinder than those other assholes with the masks. So I like you,” she admits. “But sometimes liking someone means more than that,” she explains. “Sometimes we like someone because they make us feel happier than anyone else.”

“Happy,” he repeats the foreign word. “What is that?”

She smiles at him, wide and bright and he inadvertently smiles back at her. The action makes him feel… light. He touches his chest when several seconds pass and his breath feels like it will bubble out of him. But it is not painful. Tentatively, he lets his exhales splutter from his mouth. She watches him, surprised at first then following along until they’re both shaking in their seats, tearing up and holding their stomachs. Soon, his monitors beep.

 _Laughter_ , she tells him later. He has now experienced laughter. As soon as he knows what it means, he is besotted. He wants to try again. The force of the action had felt like... like he was being washed. Like he was standing under a steady stream of water and letting it clean him of several years' worth of collected rot. Parts of him have fallen off and revealed other parts, newer and more alive. He has become a new male.

A new man.

“You make me happy,” she nods to him when they arrive at her residence and she’s leaning across the entrance to keep the door from sliding shut. As it comes time to part, she holds out her wrists for him to unlock. He does so, and she immediately moves closer, arms circling him tightly. It doesn’t feel comminatory. It doesn’t make him want to fight her. If anything, he wants to prolong their time together so she will keep holding him. So she will keep touching him.

“Talk to that man,” she murmurs against his ear. “Call him over to see you. Maybe you’ll like him back.”

* * *

Lee 891214 is an outsider in this place. 

They stare at him when he passes by. They quietly study him—his clothes, his designation, his posture. Everything about him marks him as an intruder. Everything about him marks him as someone who has something they all want. Station. Stability. Status.

Here and there, the steel braces between levels are rusting. The structural glazing is etched with words and symbols. The floor is grimy and the lighting is dim. There is a marked difference between what he is used to, and what he sees around him now. It is surprising to him that an administrator would be assigned to live in a division like this. He tries not to think about the reason. He tries to keep his focus on the directions, on the words in the communication log he was sent some time ago. 

Residence 910923, the destination of his social visit. 

Kim 910923 allows the male indoors without exchanging any form of greeting. He locks them in and strides towards the refreshment counter, producing two glucose pouches. Only then, as he stands holding out his offering and looking at the other, does he realise his heart rate is accelerated. 

A set of stubby fingers accepts one of the pouches and they continue to wordlessly consider each other. Eventually, Kim 910923 opens his mouth to address the male, but he does not know what to say or how to say it. 

“Citizen Lee,” he nods for a start. 

There is an indecipherable pause, and then the other’s face begins to stretch. His eyes brighten as they become little crescents, his cheeks turn plump and grow color, his teeth flash until two little triangles appear in the corners of his mouth. A smile. He is smiling. Kim 910923 gapes in disbelief, his chest filling with something thick and heavy like smoke. Something inside him has burst into flames.

Their monitors give them a warning beep and that breaks the smile. They simultaneously take a step back from each other.

“Where… where did you learn that?” the administrator asks. 

Lee 891214 wants to say something like, _from you._ But that is not the truth and he does not grasp why his mind tries to coax him to say those words. There is no logic behind the though. There is no clear connection between fact and his wishes. _His wishes_ … he looks down at the pouch in his hold, and brings it to his mouth. “From a survivor,” he admits before ripping the pack open and drinking from it. 

The other does not follow suit. He continues to stare, but his stare is not like those who stall outside this door. His stare is not tinted with hunger. It is pure. It is clean. Despite its darkness, it is like the clothes they wear on their bodies, bearing nothing but simplicity. 

“A… a survivor,” the administrator confirms.

Lee 891214 nods.

“Why did you learn it?” another question comes. 

This one is more difficult to answer. Why did he request Sung 630428 to teach him how to make such a face? What brought on his curiosity? What led him to do this? He shifts on his feet as his pouch slowly empties.

“Was I wrong to do so?”

“Yes!” Kim 910923 insists. “Yes, it could be considered deviant. You could… they could hurt you for it!” he hisses with an urgency to protect. He wants to look for a blind spot in the cameras. He wants to look for a place without microphones. But he does not know if such a place exists within his residence. And as the seconds pass, he does not know why he would want to protect a deviant citizen. 

The male seems unperturbed by the warning. “So why do **you** do it?” 

“Because—!” Kim 910923 begins, but his own mind reflects the question to him. Why does he smile? What is so appealing about it? Why did it interest him when he first saw it, and why does he do it more and more often recently? Is it because Junghee encourages him? Is it because Choi 911209 seems to follow suit? Or is it because of something else, some other factor in his life? 

Like a strange citizen who seems to, as Junghee said, _like_ him?

“I… I will not do it anymore,” he assures in an attempt to discipline the other. “I suggest you follow my example, citizen. It will keep you safe.”

“You are concerned for me,” the male says, then closes the distance between them. “I… I do not know what to express in return.” His eyes search for something around the room, around himself. “Should I… should I be concerned for you as well?”

The administrator remains answerless for a long time. “No,” he ultimately replies and begins turning away. Lee 891214 wants to stop the other from doing so; he wants to keep their gazes connected. He doesn’t want to leave this place. He doesn’t want to be asked to leave. 

“I think about you,” he suddenly confesses. The dark stare returns to meet his own then, landing so quietly, so softly. It floats to him, brushes against his cheek and settles on his shoulder. “… often, in the workday and otherwise. I think about you. About… about how you behave, how you speak. How you look.”

The other touches his own cheek in question. “H-how I look?”

Lee 891214 nods. “I think of it frequently. I… I do not know why.” He looks up at the other male for a solution. “It gives me clarity. It... it gives me stability,” he sighs. “It gives me pleasure. Do you know why, sir?” he asks in a soft and unsure murmur.

Kim 910923 takes another step back, attempting to steady himself. A second beep makes his hands momentarily fly to his ears. “N-no, I do not,” he stutters. “I suggest you stop thinking of me, citizen. It will only serve to be a distraction to you and—” he pauses. “You have a partner, yes?”

The other nods haltingly. “We are currently endeavouring to reproduce. It... it has been difficult. I am uncertain if we will achieve our goal, and sometimes. Sometimes I wish to give up,” he admits and looks at the ground. “I think of you the most in those moments.” 

“Y-you…!” Kim 910923 clutches at the front of his sweater. “You mustn’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“Because those are the rules, citizen!” Kim 910923 persists. “You must not smile. You must not think of me. You must not be distracted by me. You must remain dutiful and continue to work as is expected of you. Now,” he turns towards the preparation room and motions to a chair on his way there. “Please, seat yourself. May I offer comestibles?" 

The male does not answer, and when Kim 910923 turns around to look at him, he finds another smile directed at him. 

“Citizen!” he apprises even as his monitors buzz with warning. “Stop that!”

“Why do you not do it, too?” Lee 891214 heeds the warning but approaches, reaching to touch the other. He wants nothing more than to touch the male before him. If only a slide of the fingers, if only a small moment of contact, he wants it. He wants to feel the other's pulse under his fingertips, feel it race and steady as he sustains his hold. He wants to touch the other desperately. But why he wants to do this escapes him, and since the administrator has no answers either, he no longer wants to keep asking. He just wants to do what he wants to do. 

“I wish to see you smile,” Lee 891214 requests and grips the other by the wrists. “I... I wish for you to keep looking at me like that—”

“No!” the other says, far too loud for their proximity. Realising his error, he apologises and tries again in a gentler tone. “D-do not say that. Let us. Let us speak of something else,” he urges. “L-let us speak of…” he seems to think for a moment. “N-names,” he nods. “Yes. Let us speak of that. Do you know about names?”

Lee 891214 gulps and steps back, shaking his head.

As if he were an instructor working with new trainee citizens, Kim 910923 lays out everything he has learnt from Junghee so far—he talks about day and night. He explains the concept of rain, of planting seeds and hoping they will burst out of the soil. He speaks at length on names and identities, on men and women. He tries to convey the idea that people above ground find and choose each other to spend their time with, rather than being assigned into a coupling by a higher authority. He talks for a long time, not noticing how close the citizen has gotten, how tight his grip has grown, how warm his exhales feel and how bright his eyes appear. He does not notice the buzzing behind his ears, telling him he is treading on dangerous ground, telling him the surveillance is capturing all his actions all his words. 

He does not notice the smile that naturally resides on his face after a while, and when he finally stops speaking his chest feels vacant and full at the same time. 

He is a palace, but he is empty. 

His floors are strewn with bodies, his columns are bloodied from war. Famine has touched his granaries and drought has betrayed his fields. His towers are unmanned, his courtyards unguarded. His queen and king are lost to the battle and his courtiers have gone into hiding. His villages are abandoned. He is defeated, he has been overcome. His kingdom has fallen. His crown, his throne... their worth is reduced to dust.

He is a palace but he is made of nothing. 

"Give me a name." The citizen treads through the ruins of an emptied palace, accepting everything he finds. Kim 910923 wants to laugh and let out loud elated sounds. He wants to punch the air above him like he has succeeded in doing something unimaginably great. And he sees the sentiment echoed in the other's eyes.

"I wish for you to give me a name, sir," Lee 891214 repeats his request. 

There is a pause. A long pause that seems like it would go on forever. After everything the administrator has said, this silence is nearly painful. He wants to plead, he wants to voice his desperation. He wants so much, he realises in that moment as they stand face-to-face and skin-to-skin. He wants so much, but most of all he wants a name. 

"Jinki," the other murmurs after several thoughtful moments. The pronunciation finally destroys all that lives inside Lee 891214 and holds him together. He is fully broken now, and his pieces lie strewn over the length and width of Seoul Special City. 

"I propose… I propose to call you Jinki."

"It has meaning?" Lee 891214 asks, standing close enough that their chests are flush against one another. "This word… what does it mean?" 

The administrator nods haltingly. "I… I have been told it means. It means precious."

"Precious…" he breathes. "Precious to you?" 

The other widens his eyes. He can feel their pulses speed up and race each other, he can sense their chests tighten. The administrator nearly steps away before Lee 891214 wraps his arms around a sturdy neck, making a circle with his hold and paying no mind to consequences. 

"I wish to be precious to you."

* * *

The female exits the bedroom. She takes off her gloves and disposes of them, looking over and giving a small approving motion. 

“Congratulations. My colleague tells me that conception has finally occurred,” the male auditor points out coldly, noting his observations on a communicator. His visor gleams from a ceiling light, some of it catching on his white plastic and silver hi-vis uniform. “You have achieved your reproductive goals. Well done, citizen. You will be rewarded for this.” He motions a hand around the unit. 

“You may choose the district you wish to move to.”

“We thank you,” Lee— _Jinki_ , he corrects himself—accepts the news with no gratitude or surprise. An armband beeps steadily on his bicep, reading his pulse and feeding on neurological data from his body. “We will receive what the republic wishes to grant us with.”

The auditors share a furtive glance. “Good,” the male approves. “You have made great improvements since our last audit, citizen Lee. Perhaps reeducation has renewed your loyalty. And what of your assigned partner?” The question is spoken softly, with lips that barely move. It is not an unexpected question. Large posters around the public arenas ask the same thing. “Has there been any change in her in the recent weeks?”

“Other than the morning sickness, no,” he replies immediately.

“You are certain of this?” 

Once again, Jinki does not hesitate before repeating his negation. If the auditors have been alerted of the surveillance footage from their bedroom, they do not bring it up. He wonders if they have been saved by the news of conception. He wonders what would’ve happened had it turned out they have failed once more. 

He realises he needs to protect their household more than ever.

“Your partner is in a delicate state,” the female auditor notes, unintentionally echoing his thoughts. “Considering her build, it is advised that she be relocated to the gestation quarters. Do you consent to this, citizen?” she holds out her communicator for him to press his thumb against. 

It occurs to him at that juncture that no one has asked Lee 930718 about it. In fact, no one has ever asked her about being assigned to someone like him, being assigned to the work she does, being assigned to produce a child. No one has asked her anything, they have simply told her what to do. How to be. Who to be. And she has obeyed unerringly, without a word of dissent.

His hesitation is immediately questioned. “What is the matter, citizen?” 

“I…” he looks at the two auditors standing over him. “Perhaps I should confer with—” he begins to say when Lee 930718 exits the bedroom, scanning everyone else’s faces.

“May I offer refreshments?” she asks calmly while her fingers remove her own beeping armband. His shame from many weeks ago resurfaces at the question, rearing its ugly head and holding a mirror to his own ugly self. He wants to walk over and hold her close, the way he does with the administrator when they meet in secrecy.

Instead, he presses his thumb into the communicator and approves her transfer.

“That won't be necessary,” the male auditor replies and stands. “We will be taking your leave. This was a pleasure. We congratulate you again, and will return in a few days to escort you to the gestation quarters,” he nods in the direction of Lee 930718, who gives a small nod of her own in response.

“Thank you for your visit,” Jinki stands as well. “Long live the republic.” 

“Long live the republic.”

When they are alone, they share a long-sustained look. After all this time together, he only now understands the weight she must live under. This situation, this… republic. It has been crushing her. For three years, perhaps more, it has been crushing her and she has endured it. She has silently tried to comply with the apodictic rules that have bound her and perhaps, eventually broken her too.

She walks around him to prepare their meal, but he holds her by the elbows. “How do you feel?” he asks. 

Lee 930718 frowns, but answers with a quiet, “I wish to eat.” 

“I understand,” he nods and speaks softly, as if she will be damaged if he is too loud. He leads her to the table and motions for her to sit. “Let me bring you your meal,” he says and takes over her duties instead. 

“I am capable of seeing to my own needs,” she says with some protest in her voice. 

“I agree,” he calls out to her from the preparation room. “But I would prefer to do it for you until we are separated.”

She does not say anything else to interrupt him. Jinki heats two servings and brings them over, seating himself across the table and watching her for a moment. Then she finally addresses him. “Do you behave in this manner for a reason?”

“I do,” he admits, reaching for her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Knowing you will soon have to be burdened with more, I… I feel concern for your well-being—”

“Let me stop you, then,” she cuts him off. “I do not need your concern. I do not need your feelings. You have done your part. I am able to do the rest by myself,” her voice is clinical and her gaze is cold. It is as if nothing has changed between them. It is as if Jinki never found her key, never barged into her, never looked around and found all the things she hides from his sight. It is as if he imagined everything and she is as he had always suspected.

Truly, utterly empty. 

“I may have cooperated with you, but it does not change the fact that you are lacking. You mean nothing to me. Your effort, your protection. It means nothing to me. This child,” she places a hand over her flat stomach. “This child will mean nothing to me either. But if it results in me no longer having to live in the same space as you, I will gladly use whatever means I have so it comes to be.” 

A loud beep resonates behind both their ears when she is done talking, and Lee 930718 calmly goes on to eat her meal in the ensuing silence.

* * *

_Citizens do not feel love._

_Citizens do not feel love._

_Citizens do not feel love._

_Citizens do not feel love._

_Citizens do not feel—_

* * *


	3. - 전사

_No, love is not real._

* * *

This world is a box, Junghee realises.

It is a box, sandwiched between above and below like an old tin can filled with rotting food—the kind she used to find when scavenging through the rusting factories in Ulsan. She would peel the top open only to end up disappointed. A grumble would roll deep in her belly before she’d throw away the worthless thing, hearing it land with a wet thump and solid clank. This world is just like that. It is a useless box.

As she’d grown up, Junghee had thought the planet was growing with her. She'd seen its mountains loom, she'd heard its rivers return. She'd watched it struggle to give birth, she'd watched it fail and succeed. After all that time and nothingness, the planet was healing itself. Not fast enough, admittedly, but she held it dear. It was like a friend who walked a little slow and got distracted easily, but caught up with her in the end. For thirty years they had given each other company as they survived through starving winters and scalding summers. For a long time, Junghee and the planet had been looking for a place to stop for a bit. To rest and catch their breaths; settle into and make a home. 

This place is not a home. Seoul Special City has nothing special about it. She spits on it, spits on this empty shell of a world that tries to imitate a **real** world, a world that rises and falls and changes and grows. This place doesn't have any of that. It's heartbreakingly fake.

But she doesn’t say that it out loud. She listens and obeys like all the other idiots. She bows when they expect her to, she speaks to them in a meek manner. For several days that become weeks and then months, she acts like the perfect little _female_ they want her to be. In the public eye, he is the very image of a gullible unquestioning citizen. It’s an easy enough thing to replicate. All her anger is stashed away, pulled out of hiding only when she is alone. 

_Maggots in white_ , she thinks. _Filthy little maggots living in a long-decayed husk of a world._

She plays the game and walks the tightrope. She bides her time. But that time is running out. 

“The auditors have indicated their appreciation to me,” the Kim guy says to her. She has been sitting in this place and watching the same thing over and over for hours. That dreadful movie they try to control her mind with. She watches silently and follows the maniacal cheering routine like every other time, but today when she is done she doesn’t leave with the others. He asks her if she can stay and talk for a bit. _There is some important information he wishes to relay to her,_ he says in that weird stilted speech. _Won't she oblige and converse with him a moment?_ She’d say no but there is something about this one—the way he acts around her, the way he affords her basic respect without her having to demand it—there is something about him that doesn’t make him a threat. 

There’s something about him that makes Junghee think he’s a bigger fool than anyone else, and she wants to use that to her advantage. So she sticks around.

“You have been excellent in your duties, and your workplace is also quite satisfied with your performance,” he nods, but his face looks dark. He looks like he’s just been given bad news. She braces herself for it. “They have agreed to proceed to the next phase of integration, and prepare you for conception.”

That’s definitely bad news. 

“Ah,” she produces in a way that reveals nothing of her internal panic. “Hmm. Guess it’s finally time, huh? Who do they want me to do it with?”

After a dithering moment, he shakes his head. “It will… this will be an in vitro fertilisation,” he explains. 

“Oh, right, yeah. Sure.” She doesn’t understand what that means, but acts like she does. Even if she won't have to lie still under some sweaty asshole, it doesn’t sound pleasant. Nothing about a forced pregnancy sounds pleasant. “Uhh, when do they wanna do it?” 

“Soon, I am told.”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” she grins and he looks away with something like shame. Inside, Junghee is roiling. This is bad. This is really bad. This is too soon. She's only been here... what? A few months? Less than half a year, she's sure. But really... but really, she can't be sure. There's no way of telling. This world is a box, it doesn't have a day or night. When she looks for some sense of time all she finds is clocks with empty faces and empty hands. How long _has_ it been since she was plucked from her life and forced to comply?

 _Doesn't matter_ , she thinks. Danger has never been one to politely knock on the door, it barges right in. And now it's here. It's found her. Again.

She needs to do something fast. She needs to look for a way out, but she can’t do it when she’s chained like a fucking prisoner. _You_ ** _are_** _a fucking prisoner, idiot,_ she reminds herself. Whether they believe her submissive act or not, she is not free here. Not yet.

Kim 910923 returns his attention to her. “You have accepted this easily. Were you hoping for this outcome?” Perhaps she is like Choi 911209, perhaps she wants a child just as much. He wonders if it is common among females to want this. He cannot imagine it, to want to create another living being out of one’s own body. How strange the thought is, how odd to anticipate growing something inside oneself. 

She only smiles in wordless reply, revealing nothing on her usually divulging features. He approaches her, taking a seat in front of her chair. Several moments pass and he notices the way her restraints appear to give her some discomfort today. He wonders if the news has caused her some distress after all. He wonders if she is nervous about what she may be subjected to if conception does not occur immediately. She may even have doubts about the procedure that she is unsure how to voice. He wishes to show her some leniency in that moment, wanting to help her in any way he can. Now that she has settled in this place, he wants her to live as they all do. He wants her to experience the city as he experiences it. 

Carefully, he returns the smile. “Would you like me to unlock those for you?” he produces the key from where it always lives in his pocket and holds it up between them. 

Junghee heistates, gaze going between the key and his face. “You won’t get in trouble for that?” she raises an eyebrow at him.

He shakes his head and motions around the projection room. “Surveillance is halted,” he assures, smiling even wider. Eventually it turns into soft laughter. He has been laughing often, ever since the citizen— **Jinki** —began regularly paying him social visits. While he had been averse to the idea at first, they have gradually found solace in one another. They have found places in his residence that allow them to hide from prying eyes and vigilant ears. Laughter comes to him as second nature now, and he likes to believe it is because of Junghee.

He unlocks the metal clamps without waiting for her to respond. 

_Oh, you’re more of a fool than I thought,_ Junghee’s eyes widen in a show of surprise as she puts on a performance of timidly standing from her place and walking a few feet. This is it. This is her chance. All this time, she has been quietly building her strength, using the food and exercise rooms to her advantage. All this time Junghee has been sharpening herself. Like a hunter’s blade. She knows what to do now. She can finally make a run for safety. 

“This… this feels so nice!” she hushes.

The Kim guy nods and laughs some more. “You may remain so until we return to your residence,” he allows.

“Y-you’re sure?” she confirms. 

“Certainly,” he says and rolls his seat to a desk, fishing out his glass square and reading something on it. From where she stands, fists ready and calves taut, she stares at the back of his head. What is this guy? Why has he been so kind to her? How does he not perceive the threat she poses? How has he been so blind all this time? He’s a fool, but it’s so hard to hate him. She has to force herself to remember he is a cog in the machine that makes this place function. A small and insignificant cog, but a part of the problem, no less. And yet every time he smiles, every time he laughs, every time his eyes watch her with something that looks like sympathy… it is so hard to think of him as another maggot. It gets so difficult to despise him. 

“Bum ah,” she calls the name the old ones have given him. “Kibum ah.”

He turns around in surprise. “... how do you know—?”

“I’m sorry,” she manages before slamming a chair into his face. He shouts and falls back from the force, nose bleeding eyes watering voice wavering. He wilts in his seat as his ears beep, body slumping over. She carefully catches hold of him and rests his temple on the desk. “I’m sorry,” she repeats, running her fingers through his soft prickly hair, then charging out of the room.

There is no time to lose.

* * *

_Love is not real._

_But he looks down and smiles, his cheek growing a dimple. He offers his hand and smiles, the skin so rough the pulse so strong. He leans his head in and smiles, his breath hitting in crackling bursts of joy. So much joy, so much revelation, so many arrows that flit in quick succession from the bow of his lips. He smiles. He gives up his despair. He lets his tears meet their ends._

_Love is not real._

* * *

She has been inside a train before: lived in one for some time, in fact. One that didn’t move, of course, but still. It sat in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by other empty carriages like it, but in the best condition by miles. She’d pried the doors open with a crowbar, sealing herself in and sighing at the unbroken glass. It was warm. It was safe. It was the best luck she'd had in years. After a long trek through the frozen scrub, returning to her small metal abode with the dark blue “KTX” chipping off its side… it’d been something of a comfort. That place was her sanctuary for many long cold months until she'd been forced to leave it behind. Sometimes, as she warmed her hands over a fire and listened to another scavenger’s quiet singing, she’d missed it.

She misses home. 

“Citizen Junghee?” someone beckons over the rattling carriage.

She curses under her breath before turning around. “Oh, it’s you,” she expressionlessly says to the familiar tall woman. Choi-something-or-other, she reminds herself. The one who stays quiet and likes to avoid interaction. At first she had piqued Junghee’s interest, the way she conducted herself with grace and authority at the same time; the way she looked like she didn't belong in this place either. But slowly the interest has turned into pity. Another one bullied into living a life she doesn’t want. Another one who could never have what she really wants. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” she mutters.

The woman blinks. “I am surprised to find you without an escort.” She stands still for a moment before bringing out her square of glass. “Has Administrator Kim authorised this—?”

“He—” Junghee rushes with some urgency before clearing her throat and trying again. “Uhh, he’s sick. Said he couldn’t come with me, so,” she shrugs and holds her hands up in a gesture very unlike a citizen. She blames her nervousness. Something about the woman’s eyes, her large and unmoving stare… it has always made her squirm a little. As if she can easily see past Junghee’s lies _Quick,_ she urges herself. _Think fast and get rid of her, quick!_

“M-maybe!” she tries to smooth over the situation even though it’s thrown a spanner in her escape. She stands to her full height, projects all the confidence she can muster and speaks in a low and steady tone. “Maybe you can come with me, instead?”

The Choi woman blinks again. If she weren’t in a hurry to get away, Junghee would’ve even considered the woman pretty. “What is your destination, citizen?”

“Uhh… well. During the training… in the classes, I was told they put all the pregnant women in one place,” she readily spins her yarn. “A-and. And since I’m gonna be joining them soon, I thought—y-you know? Why not check it out?” She raises her eyebrows, hoping she sounds somewhat believable despite her fumbling stuttering mess of an explanation.

Choi 911209 widens her eyes. “Oh…” she murmurs, feeling herself burn with… with something. It is a large inferno that constantly rages in a pit deep within her, inextinguishable. She has made several attempts to douse it with other things—her duty to the republic, her status as a senior administrator, her access to the officers and her influence on the decisions they make. She tries to replace the inferno with pride fulfilment honor satisfaction: a thousand different things. But the fire remains unquenched. Year after choking year, it eats some more of her from the inside, like a living acid. 

At the thought that this outsider is purveyed the right she has been denied repeatedly; at the thought that even this strange and wild female is considered better than her, she wishes to never see the other’s face again. She wishes they had never met at all. And even as that wish begins to take root in her, she wishes above all else that this female—with her secret strength and concealed courage—finds some measure of contentment that Choi 911209 and several others cannot afford. She wishes, truly, that Junghee remains her unpredictable self and does not change in her new environment. 

Holding on to a support as the train veers through a tunnel, she nods. “I...I forgot the order had been conveyed. Congratulations,” she offers despite herself. “I can certainly accompany you to the gestation quarters, and provide any guidance you wish to seek.” She gestures to the doors. “However we are traveling in the wrong direction. This track leads to Gangnam district. We must go west. To Seodaemun.”

“Oh… yeah, OK,” Junghee accepts even though alarm bells are ringing in her head. She knows Gangnam, she’s familiar with the glass dome leading out of the station and into the open. Into freedom. She’d been readying herself to wiggle her way out and away to safety from there. But this new place… she’s never been out farther than the old green signs of Dongjak-gu, their corners curled and their centres filled with bullet holes. She doesn’t know where they’ll end up and what she’s going to find. 

Had it not been for all the cameras and eyes on her, she would’ve considered disabling this woman too. _No, you can’t leave a trail of bodies,_ she tells herself. There has to be another way. There has to be something she can use as a distraction. There has to be **something** …

“You have grown accustomed to your new life,” the woman pulls her away from her scheming. “It is surprising to see. Such a short time since we found the three of you...”

It feels like it has been a lifetime since Junghee last saw her traveling buddies: Hara, with fingers that knew how to tie the sturdiest knots. Jinri, who had once built a raft and sailed the coastline with fishing gear. They’d run into each other in an old mall that had long since been sacked. At first, she hadn’t trusted them. She’d protected her supplies with her life, sleeping with one eye open and clutching a makeshift blade in her hand. But soon she’d come to realise there was a great advantage in traveling together. Besides being far better company than her thoughts, they protected each other.

And then even they were taken from her. The last time she’d seen them, they’d gone to sleep in an old station. Dongdaemun Exit 7. That was where they’d been found and eventually separated. 

“Are the others…” she ventures now, shooting a cautious glance at the tall woman. “Do you know if the others are coping well?”

The pause between her question and any form of response speaks volumes by itself. Junghee bristles with rage when the other mutters a soft, “of course.” She makes a silent vow to find her friends, wherever they may be.

* * *

_Love is not real._

_The nights came and left. The mornings came and left. Smiles came and left. Hope came and left. Successes came and left. Misery came and left. Love came and left. Heartache came and left. Silences came and left. Confessions came and left. Youth came and left. Patience came and left. But no one breached her door. And she stayed alone, she stayed alone._

_Love is not real._

* * *

Above, in her world, religion no longer exists. 

To have belief means to have hope, and what is there to hope for anymore? Junghee had the thought one day as she lay on the cool marble floor of a ransacked Myeongdong Cathedral, dehydrated and fighting to breathe. Someone had stolen all the meat she’d managed to hunt down, sparing nothing and leaving her to wander the streets for weeks without a single morsel to sate her. But she would’ve handled that. She would’ve survived hunger. What really defeated her was the sinister thirst. No water for nearly five days, a new record by her standards. She’d lost all hope for survival by then. She’d given up. There were no more gods protecting mortals like her. They’d grown bored and disappeared.

On the verge of disappearing herself, Junghee had been gifted with a miracle: help in the form of another young woman, holding a bottle to Junghee’s lips and feeding her drop after drop of heaven. She remembers the softness of those hands. She remembers how gentle they’d been when they’d cradled her dizzy head, when they’d soothed her coughing back. She remembers bright eyes, encouraging words as they’d spent the night side-by-side on that floor, the sounds of their empty stomachs echoing against tall columns and high vaults.

As she scuttles through the gestation centre on her way out, feeling sunshine touch her skin, she wonders what became of that young woman.

“You are an initiate,” a voice calls out from nearby. She holds back from jumping in shock, slowly calming her defences.

“A what?” she asks the woman, who doesn’t wear the white overalls everyone else does. They’ve put her in a loose gown and thick shawl that doesn’t impede her movements. The cloth follows the curve of her sides as she approaches, its elegant folds sloping around her enlarged middle and hanging like a curtain of protection. It is a flimsy shield that she carries imperiously, gliding across the hall with poise rivaling a queen.

Coming to a stop a few feet away, the woman looks pointedly at Junghee’s stomach. “You are not showing yet, Citizen—” her eyebrows show the faintest movement before she continues, like she can’t understand what she’s reading. “—Junghee.” 

“They haven’t put one in me yet,” she answers carelessly, but she’s aware of the look she receives. It’s not exactly pity and it’s not quite annoyance. It’s like the woman’s face can’t decide what to settle on, like her heart doesn’t know how to feel. Momentarily forgetting her escape, Junghee studies her, taking in her small hands and the square above her taciturn mouth. They are women of two different worlds. They are women with separate pasts and disparate presents and... and although they stand before each other like this right now, she hopes their futures will fork away from here. Because this woman—this feeble young woman is just another victim of the system.

“How far along?” Junghee asks before remembering the words must make no sense to the other. “When do you complete your cycle?”

“In three months.”

“Hmm… what do you think, boy or girl? Uh—male or female?” she corrects again.

“I have not been provided that information by the administrators.”

“Still,” Junghee persists good-naturedly, walking backwards to the main exit. “You must have some expectation, right? Maybe a dream that showed you what to expect?”

A pair of emotionless eyes study Junghee from behind a soft lace veil. All the women in this place are dressed like her, like they are part of some kind of weird cult celebrating their pregnancies. Like they’re special. Everything about this large hall is special, too. Giant metal tubes punch holes towards the sky, ending in panes of glass that let in sunlight. Real and pure sunlight. The furniture is soft and comfortable, unlike anything in the dim little housing boxes. The temperature is warm and steady, an exhausted Junghee nearly yawns and eyes a particularly fluffy white blanket. There are bowls filled with fruits—actual fruit, not just the artificially generated shit that is fed to the rest.

She can tell this place is treated with sanctity. She can tell this is some sort of temple.

The female is clearly an interloper. Lee 930718 thinks to report her unauthorised presence and feels her pockets for her communicator. She is about to bring it into the open when another citizen approaches. It is the male of her household. This is highly irregular. He should not be here. He should not be anywhere. She does not wish to interact with him and searches for a way to distance herself. “Looks like he’s come to see you. Lucky girl,” the interloper speaks. Lee 930718 does not feel the need to acknowledge or respond to the statement. She begins walking away from them. A hand on her shoulder stops her. She wishes to remove the contact from herself. “Do not touch me,” she says and heads for the nearest vacant sleep chamber. There is no feeling called love. The republic comes first. Her duties come first. Stability must be maintained. Citizens do not feel love. Lee 930718 does not feel love—“Listen,” the male says. She will not listen. “I implore you to listen!” She will not listen. He lets go but continues to follow her. His voice echoes. His footsteps are loud. He smells of sweat. His overalls are unwashed. His hands felt sturdy. His back was wide. His breath was hot. He was heavy on her. His eyes saw everything. His words said everything. His ears heard everything. “Listen to me, I wish to speak to you!” A few more steps and she will be surrounded by silence once more. He tried protecting her. He tried helping her. He tried... She does not wish to interact. She does not wish to interact. She does not wish to—

Her getaway grows farther with each second she wastes here, but Junghee can't help herself. A thick rope tugs at her heart, holds her in place by its sturdiness. She puts her arm out until her fingers reach the woman's back.

“Uhh, citizen,” she approaches the young woman, who she finds has broken into a sweat and looks like she’s about to faint. Her white ear beads are beeping loudly, over and over. Junghee doesn’t know what that means, but it can’t be anything good. “You OK?” she tries again when there's no response. Instead, the other sways a little in place. Junghee tightens her grip. “Hey…” she whispers, dropping the citizen act entirely. “Hey, hey. What's wrong?"

A feeble shake of the head, an unintelligible mutter. A gasp like she's going to throw up. It's clear this woman is very, very ill.

“OK, you need to sit, alright? I’m gonna get you some water, come with me.”

The man who started all this makes to follow, but Junghee shakes her head at him. _Later,_ she mouths and leads the pregnant woman away. 

They head for the office the Choi woman had momentarily disappeared into. If Junghee had any mind of using that as an opportunity to escape, her chance is gone. She pushes the thought away when the other grows heavy against her side. Her knuckles rap on the door and she impatiently waits for it to beep open.

“What is the matter?” Choi asks when they barge in. “Is this female infirm?”

“Yeah,” Junghee says, now fully supporting the young woman. She feels weak, her limbs are thin and bony under the shawl. She doesn’t comment on it, helping the other onto some kind of reclining chair. “A little off-balance today,” she informs and looks around for a water cooler. “Know anything about that? Like if it’s common to feel like that?” she distractedly asks.

As Junghee feeds water to the prone woman, Choi is silent for a while before giving a floundering answer. “I… there is no way to be certain at this moment, but I would assume it to be a sign of gestational diabetes.”

“What’s that?” Junghee asks. “Can it hurt the baby?”

The tall woman is quiet again until she is shot with a demanding frown. She finally gives a nod after a long minute, then rushes to give reassurances. “B-but, it is easily treatable! We have the means to help her.”

“You guys managed to make _insulin_?!” Junghee balks, knowing that a lot of old world treatments no longer exist.

“Wh-what is…? No,” the administrator dismisses. “We… we have developed a cure for it, since this is a common condition among females. But we must act quickly or we will need to resort to surgery."

Junghee waits and watches the woman shift in place for a moment. "So do it!" she yells.

"R-right...” Choi brings out her little transparent plate and starts to tap it in a frenzy. And even before the woman is done, Junghee already knows what’s going to happen. She knows what’ll come out of all this. She knows what they’re going to do to her. She knows where she’s going to end up. She knows exactly how much she’s going to regret this wasted chance to make a run for it—all so she could help a young woman who seems clearly beyond help.

“The medication should arrive shortly,” the administrator announces and approaches them, reaching out to take the pregnant woman’s hand. She's obviously in her element, speaking calmly and acting with what can only be called boundless affection. “Do not be anxious, citizen,” she says, her voice so considerate, her gaze so tender. Traces of a smile appear on her features. Despite her predicament, Junghee is suddenly taken back many years to a time when she still had hope. When she still had a belief.

“I will not allow your efforts to be in vain. You will be successful, this I will ensure.”

“You remind me of someone,” Junghee says as guilt begins to get heavier and heavier inside her with every passing second. She knows Kibum is going to come here and point her out as the violent and unstable bitch this place has turned her into. She knows and tries to distract herself with her memories, plucking at them as if they are broken feathers on a dying bird.

“You remind me of a girl I used to know.”

Choi blinks up at her, and not for the first time, her eyes take Junghee back to a dear friend she had once loved and lost. _She's so much like you, Minjunggie,_ she thinks. _She's exactly like you._

* * *

_Love is not real._

_She lives in a cage, the key safe within her pocket. She lives in a cage, put on display and brandished with pride. She lives in a cage. Its bars hold her together, give shape to her dignity give form to her honor. The eyes that leer feel no remorse. The fingers that point feel no shame. The key grows heavy, the lock turns rusty. The horizon is far and her feet are tired. She must crawl. She must slither. She must break free._

_Love is not real._

* * *

Junghee is cornered, back in her chains and forced to sit in front of the two administrators who guard her like her very existence is unlawful. Behind a bandaged nose and rapidly darkening eye rims, Kibum even looks a little afraid. She doesn’t know if she should apologise to him or defend her actions. She doesn’t know if she’s sorry or still angry. She wants to pick the latter. But he had managed to convince Choi, who looks just as hurt and confused, to wait and hear Junghee out before they call the auditors. 

There are others in the room too. Two more. They’re positioned farther away like there is a perimeter of danger they need to stay behind. She’s been caught. She’s an animal in a trap. The last time she’d felt like this was when she’d been walking through a dark tunnel in Amsa-dong and couldn’t see the other side. She’d wanted to stop and turn around to go back the way she’d entered... but she’d also wanted to keep looking for the rumoured water tanker nearby. It was a survival versus survival situation. There was no right choice.

“What is... your purpose?” he questions uneasily.

Junghee looks at him for a long time, the man Kibum calls Jinki. His demeanor is very different from when she’d waved him away almost an hour ago. He looks cautious, as if he’s talking to a wild beast mistakenly set free. She’s found out he’s the father of the young woman's child, the woman named Lee. She’s also found out he’s the man who likes Kibum so much they've been secretly meeting for months. _Small world_ , she wants to joke, but it’s not a joke. The combined population of this entire underground city is no higher than a hundred thousand. A tiny military town of identical maggots where everyone knows everyone else.

“I want to destroy this place,” she openly admits, a deep calm coming over her.

A ripple of shock goes through the room in several waves, but they all visibly try to hold themselves back. If there are any secret eyes and ears in this room, they're fucked. Even if she's the trapped animal here, she has taken them all hostage and put their lives on a countdown.

The air is palpable. She hears a loud beep from someone’s ears. Kibum splutters with disbelief. Jinki widens his eyes, taking a step back in his place. Choi covers her mouth with a shaking hand and looks like she is about to run out of the office. The Lee woman stays placid as always, save for the tightening of her fists. 

It occurs to Junghee in that moment that maybe she is every bit a barbarian as they classify her to be. Maybe that’s why they look so afraid, so on edge around her.

“You are powerless,” Lee speaks up first. “You do not have the means or the capability to be a threat to our great republic—”

“It’ll stop being great if I blow it sky high,” Junghee grins for show and considers spitting more threats at them, just to see them squirm. “But I know I can’t do that,” she leans back into her chair. It doesn’t ease the tension in the air. “I was just going to make a scene, you know? Fuck this place up real good.”

“I knew you were a nuisance. I can recognise a lost cause when I see one.”

“And you?” Junghee challenges, tilting her head at the pregnant woman. “Are you a lost cause too?”

Lee places her little hands on her bulging stomach. It is her wordless response. It isn’t pride or blind patriotism that holds her here. It isn’t that she's been completely and utterly brainwashed into submission by this republic, no. She's surviving too. In her own way, she is protecting herself and the life growing within her. She doesn’t need to say anything, Junghee reads all of it in her vacant stare.

“I… I do not understand,” Choi says, looking so lost and defeated. As if everything she’d ever believed to be true has turned out to be an elaborate lie. In a way, it has. “The republic affords stability to us all. You do not… you do not wish for that stability?” she shakes her head with incredulity. “All along… all this time you participated in training and social integration. And—and you did not wish to?”

Junghee holds out her wrists in answer, the chains heavy and loud in the silence of the room.

“B-but…” Kibum stutters. “But you _smiled_ ,” he looks at her, utterly betrayed. “You smiled and laughed and… and you taught me how to—”

“My name is Junghee,” she cuts him off. “I am thirty years old. Seoul is my home, even if there’s hardly anything left of it.” She sits up and speaks a little louder. “I have a spot—right here,” she points to where her collarbones meet under the overalls. “I have a scar on my left thigh, from an infection. I love the sun and I love warm nights, can't stand the cold. When I saw the ocean for the first time, I found out I was scared of water. I can start a fire faster than anyone I know, but I can only run for three hours before I get tired. Sometimes… sometimes I have trouble sleeping,” she lists all the innocuous things about her that she’d never really paid attention to until she arrived here. 

If the others don’t understand the meaning behind her speech, they don’t say so. She continues.

“I may have had to fight for food and water. A may not have always had a place to sleep for the night. I may have had to run for my life from animals and night-hunters. I may not have lived as sheltered a life as any of you,” she glares at each one in turn. “But my body was always mine. My life was always mine. Even my death would’ve been only mine. I belonged to **me** ,” she stresses. “No one else. Not my mother, not my lover, not those bastards in Gil-dong who tried to eat me and my friends. I was mine.” She shakes her head, her gaze eventually returning to Kibum. 

“And you… you people took that away from me.”

Jinki notices Kibum open his mouth to respond but nothing comes out. No words or explanations or excuses can be provided here. There is no responding to something like that. He throws a glance at his partner where she lies on a birthing seat, looking up at the ceiling. The woman administrator carefully rises and begins pacing the room. Monitors buzz all around him, going off at irregular intervals like malfunctioning smoke alarms. This is a Disaster, he realises. This is the cataclysm they have been warned against and he wonders if somehow... somehow his own actions have been the root of this. He wonders if his incessant pursuing of Kibum resulted in the other man's dereliction, and ultimate failure to identify a threat among them.

The incensed declaration has distressed all of them. There are no auditors here to solve this problem, no guards to maintain law and order. Someone must take charge. Someone must be responsible. Someone must own their error of judgement and step forward to correct the situation.

“And so you wish to return to your former life,” Jinki nods as if in comprehension, even when he does not fully comprehend. 

“No,” the interloper surprises him. “No, I want to destroy this place. I want revenge. I want to punch that old bitch Park's face in, I’m so fucking **angry** all the time,” she shudders a little like she is about to explode where she sits. His instincts urge him to take another step away, but he tries his best to keep still. 

“I want to burn this place down for reducing me to this.”

Jinki gulps, feeling threatened by the words. “But you admit you cannot,” he adds to her tirade. “I assume this means you wish to seek your… your goals. By some other means.”

The room turns to him now, their eyes bearing heavily on him. Turning in his chair, Kibum displays an expression he remembers the other once labeled “shock”. Sometimes he looks like this when their clandestine meetings are about to come to an end. Today, he's been shocked from the moment he rushed into the gestation centre with a large wound on his face and a tremble in his voice. 

Jinki sends him a reassuring nod. He does not know the interloper. He does not decipher the motivations that have led her to these circumstances. He does not know why she has hurt Kibum and who else she may end up hurting. Perhaps herself, perhaps several others. He does not know how this will end, but if Jinki is able to, he wishes to avoid brutality.

“How do you wish to proceed?”

Junghee raises her eyebrows at him. “Why, you wanna help me?” she snorts.

The guy tilts his head at her. “Would that be favorable to you?” he asks back. She realises he's not trying to stall and be facetious. He's genuinely asking about her. No wonder Kibum likes him, they're both soft idiots.

“If I... if **we** agree to help you, as you say, will you agree that no one else will be injured?”

“Citizen Lee!” Choi hisses. “We will not bargain with… with a _criminal!_ ” 

“Hear that?” Junghee points out. “I’m a criminal. And if you help me, you’ll be a criminal too. That’s how this place works, right?” she smirks. “You really want that when you’ve got a kid on the way? Even found the man of your dreams,” she jokes, but the other looks completely serious. There is no sign of hesitation on his face, he really means what he says.

He really does want to help her, she discovers, when he slowly crosses the room until he’s standing behind Kibum.

“My… my name is Jinki,” he responds. “I am… thirty-one years old. I am a citizen of Seoul Special City. I work in the services engineering sector,” he nods, then goes on. “I… I do not understand what you mean by anger. I do not understand what you mean by love,” he shakes his head, his hands moving to rest on Kibum’s shoulders. “Perhaps I have felt these things without my knowledge, and so I do not realise what I do not have. But...” he gulps. “But... it seems to me that you have experience in that regard. It seems you have these feelings. And to have something, only for it to be taken away,” he shakes his head. “I imagine it must be unbearable.”

He looks like a lake, a full and placid lake that does not move or shift no matter how many stones you throw into it. But Junghee can tell that isn't him. He is a storm. He is surging and bellowing under the surface. He is filled with life and light, like Kibum. Like all of them. They just don’t realise it yet.

“So I will help you.”

She stares at him with distrust for a while, hoping to catch any little scrap of disingenuity. But there is none. The storm is real. The offer is real. And she notes in the way he tightens his fingers on Kibum, maybe even his love is real.

“Didn’t I say?” she finally replies, turning to the young pregnant woman in the corner of the room. “You’re a lucky girl.”

“You will not succeed,” Choi stops the exchange. There's no harshness in her words. She's warning them, Junghee realises. “The two females you are searching for have been detained. Citizens cannot access those locations.”

“Then… then I shall accompany them,” Kibum volunteers, followed by panicked refusal from Jinki. “I… I will come with you,” he insists, holding the other man’s wrists and soothing him with a smile. “You will not be stopped or questioned in my presence. It will work to your advantage.” 

“You do not have the clearance for that division,” he’s told. “You cannot simply stroll into a detention centre with two citizens in tow. Your credentials will be blocked. An auditor will be alerted of the breach. And then what will become of all of you?” The tall woman wrings her hands together, still pacing and fretting. Her agitation seems to have multiplied in the time they’ve been in this office. Every time those large brown eyes turn to her, Junghee looks away. She just wants to get out of this suffocating hellhole. 

“So tell us what to do, then. Because I’m not leaving without my friends,” Junghee refuses.

The other makes an exasperated sound too strange for this place. “Why must you be so difficult?!” she demands, but doesn’t look like she expects an answer. Instead, all eyes in the room watch her for a long minute like they’re expecting something from **her**. Like they’re waiting for her to finally cave in.

“Very well,” Choi accepts, her face looking so much like Minjung in that moment, Junghee would've bounded over and given her a kiss were she not chained up. “I… I will guide you to your companions and show you the safest route out.”

* * *

_Love is not real._

_His tongue stops at the word. He binds it, gives it an address, sets it afloat. Towards blushing cheeks, towards a heated mouth, towards tightened knuckles and shuffling feet. His sleep leaves him. His night slinks around the corners of his gaze. The shot runs through his chest. The thorns scrape across his palms. He speaks, he vows, he whispers. Once a taboo, now his very definition._

_Love is not real._

* * *

“They were fighting, sir,” Kibum lies to the auditor who’s going over their files. 

A beep from his monitors makes them all tense up, but he recovers from it easily. Touching his broken nose, he bows his head. “I apologise. Apprehending them was not easy, as you can see.”

 _I’ve been through worse_ , Junghee tries to convince herself. _Like that time I raided the White Pigs’ camp,_ she thinks. _Or that time the Falcon boys caught me and put me in a cage. Or maybe even that time when—_

The auditor gives a curt hum. First he looks at Jinki, then he looks at Junghee. “It was a physical altercation outside of the gestation centre,” he's told. “As you know, the area is short on surveillance so the incident was not reported. We were lucky to be passing by.”

“And the other female?” the auditor’s visor turns to the Lee woman. “What is her purpose in this?”

“A witness,” Choi is quick to supply. “She will corroborate for the report before we ascertain a sentence.” Had Junghee’s face not been covered in a mask she would’ve flashed the other a wide grin. Next to her, Jinki is in a similar state, his hands restrained at his back. All she can see are his amber eyes, flashing through two little holes in the plastic mask. 

They’ve decided to do this his way—no one gets hurt. If they have the choice to avoid a confrontation, no one must be harmed, and Junghee promised him that. But sooner or later they will need weapons. When they try to break two criminals out, there will be a fight. She’d tried to explain this to them on their way here. “You all need something to defend yourselves with. Something heavy, or something sharp,” she’d said. “Something you know how to use. There won’t be any time to go looking, so as soon as you see something handy, take it.”

The auditor gives their group another once-over and then nods. “Very well. You may occupy one of the investigation rooms for the time being,” he points them in the direction and they start moving again.

As they traverse corridors and move past wall after brick wall, Junghee realises this place is old. Very old. They cross arcades and metal doors painted a pasty green, the latches rusted and the bolts chipped. The only light comes from thin fluorescents installed at long intervals along their path. There is no sound except for their footsteps. No crying prisoners, no mothers wailing for justice. Junghee wonders if they’re deep in the basement levels of Seodaemun prison, and nearly laughs. 

History truly does repeat itself. 

She steps out of their formation to take a closer look, but Choi puts a hand on her shoulder and shakes her head. Kibum silently points at an open door and they all move towards it in unison. 

Inside, the room is not unlike their housing boxes. There is a table with several chairs arranged to one side, a clear space on the other. A camera prominently stands out, protruding from the wall and focussed directly on Junghee’s face. She glares back at it until she’s positioned in the middle of the room, next to Jinki. 

“Administrator Kim,” Choi directs for the benefit of anyone listening in. "Begin your interrogation. I have been tasked with transferring two other detainees. I shall do so, and return for your official report."

“Understood,” Kibum agrees and takes a seat, helping the Lee woman to a chair beside him. He takes out his glass square and points it at Junghee. “Let us begin.”

Choi 911209 hastens along the corridors, simultaneously scanning through the list of detainees. She did say she had a plan, but the truth is she hopes that as long as surveillance doesn't register their activity, they could simply go unnoticed. It is afterall, the waking cycle during a two-day interval. There is likely far too much going on for a few misplaced citizens to be distinguishable from the mass.

She negotiates through the labyrinthine hallways, their layout unique to this facility. The detention centres in Yeouido division are smaller and newer. Their passages are wider, the visibility conditions much better. The service pipes allow them to introduce gaseous emotional alteration agents, far more potent than the digestive pills dispensed to citizens after lunch. She is a frequent visitor to those locations, charged with carrying out administrative inspections. 

But this place.... this is a relic from the time before. She scrunches her nose at thick walls sprouting patches of black mold. The air smells damp, the sound of trickling water echoes through old pipes. She hears a long groaning sound coming from somewhere above her and quickens her footsteps, training her eyes once again on her communicator.

When she arrives at the two cells, she slides open a viewing panel on one of the doors and finds the room empty. Frowning, she tries the other and is greeted with a similar vacant view. Returning her gaze to the list she looks for appended notes or attached commentary. 

“You are very far from your station, Administrator Choi,” a reedy voice speaks close to the back of her neck. 

She feels her hair stand on end as she turns around and finds an auditor scrutinizing her from behind his visor. She immediately stands to attention and shoots a salute to the male. “Sir. My immediate duty is to—”

“I am aware of what your immediate duty is, administrator. You needn’t remind me,” he silences her. “Although,” he speaks slower. “It may be of more use for you to remind yourself. You seem to have strayed farther than your usual deviances this time. Perhaps you need to be sentenced once and for all.” He pauses and moves closer, his gaze appearing to shudder with unbridled rage. In this proximity, he seems on the verge of hysteria.

Her monitors buzz, going into overdrive. She closes her eyes, sucks in a long inhale. _Remember your duties, remember your duties._

“How do you respond?”

Choi 911209 has to fight every instinct not to step back, not to lash out, not to scream and run away in… fear? Is this what fear feels like? This white cold metallic thing at her every fingertip. This pin-end pressure on every single part of her body, almost as if every pore of her is being pierced simultaneously. She opens her eyes to check if the walls are shifting in to trap her but the auditor has moved closer still. Much too close for her comfort. 

“The republic must be protected from deviants like you. You are in direct violation of conventions. You have been an agent of disorder. Your actions will bring another Disaster upon us. You and everyone you know will be charged with insurrection and punished. _How do you respond, administrator?”_

With all the strength and courage she can muster, Choi 911209 kicks her knee upwards, smashing it between the male auditor’s legs. 

“Argh…!” he chokes as he folds and collapses to the ground.

Choi 911209 watches him writhe for a shocked moment before setting off at a run, propelling herself to get as far away as possible. As she speeds back to the others, she makes a silent vow to never question administrator Kim on all the strange things he teaches her to do when faced with danger.

In the interrogation room, Kibum leads them through a farce. It’s quick, and it ends before they can even think about how long Choi has been gone. An accusation, an admission of guilt, a sentencing, a leniency plea, some moments to consider, a little begging for mercy, some drama and great performing on her and Jinki’s part: and then they’re ready to go. 

Junghee’s skin fizzes with excitement. She can’t wait to meet Hara and Jinri again. She can’t wait to introduce them to her new friends. _Friends,_ she wonders, grinning behind her mask. After all the things this place has done to her, after all the shit she’s been through, finding friends was something she’d never foreseen. What a weird bunch too—a guy who smiles too much, another guy who's in love with the first, a girl who knows how to start trouble, and a pretty woman who’s as fierce and loyal as her Minjunggie.

Friends.

She shakes her head at the thought, getting ready to leave the room, and eventually this wretched city.

“Another day devoted to the republic,” a voice reverberates between the walls of the room, its owner slowly leaving the doorway to stand before them. Her countenance is composed and serene, her stance is relaxed. “I am thankful for your efforts.”

Junghee hears a gasp beside her as Jinki stiffens. He has good reason to. It’s not every day that Primary Citizen Park appears out of the blue to address a small ragtag group of deviants.

“I applaud your services, Administrator Kim,” the woman motions to Kibum, who gulps audibly. “You have shown virtue in all your actions. Immediate declaration of deviancy, abstinence from lies, meticulous execution of policies. Truly, you have been an example of dutiful. Much like the name they give you in your wing. _Kibum_ , is it not?” Park nods. “It suits you. Perhaps we shall begin to address you by this new designation, when I officially promote you to lead administrator of Seoul Special City.”

Her tone seems stolid but Junghee senses the slightest hint of an edge. She turns to Kibum and shakes her head, hoping to convey her words in the motion. _Don’t listen to this monster_ , she wants to warn him. _Don’t listen, she’s playing with you!_

“I…” Kibum tries, but he flounders. He looks at each one of them, hoping someone else will answer for him.

“Ah,” Park moves on with ease. “And citizen Lee. Discounting your recent indiscretion, I must applaud your skills,” she reaches forward to unfasten his mask, carefully placing it on the table before considering Jinki once more. “Your knowledge and operational capabilities are unmatched. We have made several strides in the right direction as a direct result of your invaluable input. Well done,” she congratulates, patting his arm. “When we begin to reclaim Mapo district, I will make certain you oversee the process. And I hear you have also performed your male duties well. This is wonderful to see.”

“I have a share in that success,” the pregnant woman cuts through the monologue before Jinki can, standing with her hands on her belly. “Do you not agree, Primary Citizen?”

“Most certainly!” the other accepts. Junghee doesn’t miss the tiny spasm of muscle in the corner of Park's mouth. “You have obeyed the state. You have served the male of your unit well. You will soon provide this great republic with an offspring to further our cause. You have lived the most compliant and honorable life expected of a female,” she bows her head a little. “I acknowledge your conformity to conventions.”

“And what is my reward?”

Park’s stare is intense. “You have done what any ideal citizen should have done,” she points a finger at Junghee. Her tone suggests a sense of obviousness. “You have identified an interloper. What bigger reward could there be? By making us aware of a delusional and irrational female who refuses to cooperate, you have protected the republic.”

“How can I protect the republic?” the pregnant one asks, now stepping closer. “It is a great structure. I am but a single citizen. How could someone as small and insignificant as I—”

“Do not deem yourself insignificant, citizen,” Park corrects, her demeanor smooth. Junghee can tell she’s having an effect on the others. “Each one of us holds this republic together. We are all equally responsible for our successes.”

“But we are not equal,” she’s questioned again, this time by a Kibum who looks shocked with himself. “We live in hierarchy, do we not, Primary Citizen?”

Even here, Park is ready with an answer. “Hierarchy is necessary for order,” she begins, slowly pacing the width of the interrogation room. “The officers are in their posts because of their inherent qualities. They have complete control of their senses. They have unparalleled knowledge of statecraft. The auditors are very resourceful, and display great leadership. The administrators know to work as subordinates to these functions. They have vastness of insight.” She puts her hands forward in an invisible offer of explanation. “Everyone meets a functional requirement, and they are valued for it. Is that not a truly fair system?”

“Then why am I dissatisfied?” Choi suddenly rejoins the gathering, hugging the door frame and panting as if she’s been sprinting for hours.

Junghee takes a step towards her, hoping to see Hara and Jinri. But the tall woman stands alone. The disappointment is large enough to bear down on Junghee like an invisible weight.

“Why is it…” Choi continues. “That despite us living as prescribed. Despite us remaining dutiful—why am I not contended to live the life I have been assigned?” she demands. “Why is it that the republic promises stability… but I have none? Why do I have nothing? Why am I alone? I am… Primary Citizen, why do I feel incomplete?” she pleads.

Park considers this, then makes an impatient sound. “Because the republic—”

“The republic doesn’t give a fuck about her,” Junghee shakes her head, voice muffled behind the mask. “Look at her,” she points with her chin. “Look at all of them. Are you saying they wanted any of this? Do you think they’re so loyal that they just never question anything? Are you really saying that a complete stranger like you decides where these people live, how much they eat, even who they fuck. And they’d be OK with that?! Don’t make me laugh,” Junghee spits. “They never wanted any of this.”

“You wish for them to change themselves. To what end? To advance your personal motives?” Park ridicules.

“But... the republic requires that of us too,” Jinki voices his doubt. “Have we not already been changed to suit the republic's needs?”

Primary Citizen Park remains composed as ever. “You are providing further evidence of this criminal's influence,” she says in a lightly chiding tone. “Our great republic offered her its comfort and safety, and she disrespected it. She is dangerous and will be dealt with in a swift manner.” She beckons Kibum forward. “Please. Escort this vile thing to the organic recycling chambers.”

“P-primary Citizen…!” Kibum shudders. 

“Come now, you have proven your loyalty once. This is but another test,” Park encourages. “Go on. It is time to end this.”

“You are correct,” the pregnant woman speaks, moving closer to Park and letting her shawl fall off her bony shoulders, revealing a very small and very sharp fruit knife. “It is time.”

The first stab is one quick motion, leaving them all as breathless and shocked as Park looks. The next succession is slower, getting bloodier with each pull and squelching louder each time the blade sinks into flesh. A feeble arm tries to push the weapon away. A shaky leg makes an attempt at distancing itself from the attack. But the disbelief must be paralysing. Five, ten, fifteen times the young woman pushes her knife into an unresisting stomach. And at the sixteenth go across a choking throat, the lifeless body of Primary Citizen Park falls to the floor.

* * *

_Love is not real._

_The emergency alarms are near-deafening. Citizens flock out of their work units, emptying into the hallways and fighting for a chance to look out of the glazed panels. The slab quivers with their combined weight, the masses groan in a push and pull of limbs. Another alarm joins in, a team of auditors wielding squealing devices and dispersing the crowds. But it does not have its usual effect. It isn’t as easy as always. This isn’t like any other incident. This is something bigger._

_Love is not real._

_They are five: two citizens, two administrators, and a gestating female. They stand in a circle, surrounded by several guards pointing tasers at them. **Must be criminals,** someone says. **Wonder what they did,** another asks aloud. **Has to be something serious,** someone else offers in response. Squinting, it becomes apparent that the five hold weapons of their own. A length of rebar, a fire extinguisher, a foot of piping, a bloodied knife, a pair of fists. _

_Love is not real._

_The female citizen gives a loud yell. A battle cry. They are five, but they become one as they charge forward at the sound, swiping and kicking and punching wildly. They fight. They stand their ground even as the team of guards starts pushing them into their circle. They stand in the eye of the storm and resist its inward press. They stand in the blood and the fury and they herald the end of the world. They push back. They are five. When they make their retreat, they look even fiercer, calling out to the onlookers above and telling them something. It’s not easy to hear them from the distance, some hushing and quieting ensues. **What are they saying,** someone hisses. **What are they saying?**_

_Love is not real._

_The circle returns to resisting. A large cloud of extinguishing gas jets out above their heads and paints several of their opponents white. Rebar clangs and metal pipe clobbers. Tasers crackle and blades swish. They grapple, they hurl, they stab and slice. They push back. They are five, and they call out again. **What was that?** the question comes. **What did they say?** But this time it is loud. Louder than the emergency alarms. Louder than the blood rushing to our ears._

~~_Love is not real_ ~~ _._

_Love cannot be killed._

_It cannot be silenced. It cannot be imprisoned. It cannot be controlled. It cannot be exiled. It cannot be suffocated. It has no boundaries and it has no cure. It has no beginning and it has no end. It is perpetual. It raised the Disasters and ended them. It is immortal. They are five, and they have said: love exists. It is everywhere, well within reach. It is in the air and the earth. It is in the flesh and the blood. It is even in the concrete and the steel. It is in fire, it is in water, it is in warmth and in coldness. It is in victory and defeat. It is in success and failure. It is in respect and irreverence. Love cannot be denied. It cannot be hidden. It has a mind, it has a heart, it has a body and soul. Love cannot be killed. It will fight. It will always fight._

_They are five. They stand their ground. They don’t give up. They don’t surrender. They will never surrender. They break their chains so we may break ours_. _They are five. They are joyous. They are compassionate. They are sorrowful. They are angry. They are brave. They are afraid. They are shaken. They are at peace. They are in love. They are one. They call out to us, laughing screaming waging this war from the vanguard._

_They are five. They are one. And they build the path to freedom._


End file.
